The Story of Team Chaos
by ajgavitter
Summary: The story of our D&D group, told from the perspective of one of its founding members. Watch them grow from novice adventurers to the world-shaking group known as Team Chaos!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This chapter is the prelude to a game that I've been running on and off for six years, told through the eyes of my fiancés character because she is the last original member left in the group. Hope you enjoy our random insanity, and my storytelling.** **Disclaimer: We do not own any Dungeons and Dragons material used in this story, just the characters and world that we created.**

 **Team Chaos: By Luthien's Eyes**

 **Chapter 1**

My journey started with my mother, Lillian Amil. It is common for my people, the Elves, to succumb to a profound wanderlust once they reach maturity between their 110th and 120th year of life. Mother was so very happy when my time came, soon after the turning of my 119th spring. She said to me, "Luthien, the most important thing you can do is to enjoy the time you spend out in the world, and make the most of it. And come back and visit me whenever you can." She smiled as she said it, and hugged me tightly. Then we walked out to join the celebration.

Said celebration was actually for me, as well as two other young elves that were setting out the following day. My kind is wont to celebrate life and freedom at every possible opportunity, as we are an exceptionally free-spirited people. So it is that when young elves such as us decide that it is time to embark on the customary journey, a great festival is put together.

My mother and I live near the outskirts of the great elven city of Wrenloft, our race's primary settlement in this part of the world. Wrenloft is a sprawling city, formed around the natural environment of the Feywild, a great forest and jungle that dominates the center of the region. While elves are the predominant race of humanoids in the north of the Feywild, the denser southern region is ruled over by the fey of the Seelie Court, our allies. The number of our kind that live in Wrenloft and the surrounding area is quite large, and the celebrations that are put on are quite similar in size.

During our celebration, my fellow wanderers-to-be and I (one male and one female) were toasted, and songs were created on the spot in our honor by the bards. Many of them were quite humorous, poking fun at us. Others called to the melancholy of elvenkind, a byproduct of our long lives. Food was had, mostly greens, but with some fine meat, including a prize stag that a local ranger had brought down that morning. All three of us were also gifted with a bottle of fine elven wine from a vineyard to the east of the forest. There was dancing, and some elves told tales of their own adventures around the fires well into the wee hours of the morn. My mother also presented me with a parting gift, a flower of great beauty for my hair, enchanted to never wither no matter the time or the weather. She secured it in my hair with a fine mithril clip, and told me to remember her when I looked at it. I promised I would; how could I not?

Eventually the party ended, and we went to our homes and entered Reverie. In the morning, bright and early we met again by the northernmost point of Wrenloft. My mother and I ate a small but filling breakfast of honeycakes on the way, and she took great pleasure in carrying my backpack to the gate and handing it to me before we three departed. The two of us exchanged hugs, and a promise to see and hear from each other again. Then the general population swarmed us, and I was being given congratulations, advice, and wishes for good fortune by the elves I had spent my first century of life amongst. Finally my fellows and I stood before the crowd, bowed, and exited the gates together to the fanfare of our people. I blew a last kiss to my mother before the gates closed, and finally settled my backpack firmly on my shoulders determined to follow my heart's longing for the road.

My fellow adventurers and I spent a good many hours talking as we followed the paths to the northern edge of the Feywild. The male elf was named Dathes, and was a ranger of considerable training, but little experience save for hunting. The female I learned was called Kalliah, and that she was a cleric of Sehanine Moonbow, lover of Corellon Larethian the Lord of the Elven pantheon of deities known as the Seldarine. I myself was both a trained warrior and arcanist, in the classic tradition of the elves. However I had my own… quirks. I couldn't see my way around to wielding the traditional weapons of the elves; the longsword and longbow. My weapon was the aara, a whipsword made of segmented blades connected by a thin but strong chain. It was currently wrapped up in a special holster on my right thigh.

Likewise in my magical schooling I differed slightly in my methods. While most wizards and sorcerers prefer to destroy their enemies with fire and lightning, I could never really feel comfortable using magic to create such destructive forces. My preferred magic was enchantments, abjurations, and illusions. I prefer to dazzle my enemies, trick or mislead them, and keep myself safe from their blades and spells. If I must kill, I prefer to use my aara.

My backpack was filled with essentials. Flint and steel, a bedroll, extra clothing, food and a waterskin, my wizard's spellbook, two potions of healing, and fifty feet of rope. Almost every piece of advice the veteran adventurers had given out had involved the numerous uses of rope, and I wanted to be sure I learned from those with more experience than I. I also wore my armor: loose garments, trousers and a blouse, both shades of green and padded with leather specially stitched on to appear decorative while remaining functional, and to not hinder my movements when casting spells. As well as my aara, I also carried a simple dagger, in case the need for a second, smaller blade arose.

My two companions and I reached the edge of the forest as the sun was going down over the horizon. But the horizon was different than I expected. As soon as we breached the tree line, all three of us gasped. Before us was something none of us had seen before: mountains. Far off in the distance, a mountain range dominated the skyline, seemingly broad farther north, but coming to a point facing the south. Open plains dotted with large clusters of trees and various grasses and flowers sprawled out before us, painted a beautiful orange-gold as the sun set between two mountains. The sight was breathtaking.

The path was much more visible here; whereas in the forest only elf eyes could make out the trail markings, here the path clearly diverged into three separate ways: one to the east, one north, and one west. We decided to spend our first night as adventurers together before separating in the morning, each taking a different path. Dathes started a fire and went off to gather deadwood, while Kalliah and I prepared our food, which she promptly blessed. When Dathes returned, we supped on nuts, berries, and dried jerky. Kalliah then decided to open her bottle of wine, and we each shared in a cup of it. We toasted each other and the adventures we would find, then Kalliah entered Reverie as Dathes and I took first watch.

I took my Reverie last, and awoke as the sun was peeking through the boughs of the great Feywild oaks and maples. The three of us struck camp, ate our breakfast, Kalliah prayed to Sehanine as I pored over my spellbook and Dathes kept watch, and finally the time came for us to part ways. We embraced as a group, having become close over the course of the last day, and turned to our paths with fond farewells on our lips. I turned to the west, Kalliah to the north, and Dathes to the east. With that we parted ways, and I began my life's adventure in truth.

I walked with purpose down the path as the sun steadily rose to shine on the Oerth's surface. My elven senses took in the scents of many flowers borne by the breeze, and the sights of many animals scampering through the meadows and trees. Nary a fellow traveler did I meet following this path along the edge of the Feywild, not even a fellow elf. The road was mine, and mine alone for the time being it seemed.

For two days I walked, following the path and snacking on the food I had packed. Twice I stopped at small streams and refilled my waterskin. I entertained myself with thoughts of the grand adventures this path would lead me on, and by conjuring small twinkling lights and other magical effects to practice and play with. I spent my first night alone since leaving my home. It was somewhat unsettling, but I reminded myself that the borders of the Feywild were well-patrolled, and that most evil humanoids wouldn't dare set foot near here. Still, I set an alarm spell to wake me if anything came too close during my four hour Reverie.

I finally saw signs of humanoid life again near the evening of the second day, a farm in the distance growing wheat and potatoes. My keen eyes picked out a human man roaming among his crops weeding, and a woman and two children washing clothes near their house. It was a charming little place, sturdily built and clean from the look of it. I quickened my pace, excited at the prospect of contact with humans, who I'd seen only rarely in Wrenloft.

The farmer spied me and raised his hand to his eyes to block the sun's rays, trying to see me more clearly. I waved politely, and went to the small wooden fence in front of the family's small lawn. The man met me there, and didn't seem too shocked by my pointed elven ears. He introduced himself as Halen, and when I asked about his lack of surprise he simply shrugged and stated that the nearest town boasted quite a large population of elves. "Must be over two, maybe three hunnerd of your folk in Lunas, and quite a fine folk they are if I say so myself. Always give a good price for our crops they do."

"How far is Lunas?" I asked the man, and he replied, "'Bout another mile or so down the road. Once you reach the top of that hill you'll be able to see it," he said, motioning to a hill perhaps a hundred yards in the direction I was heading. "Look for the Black Unicorn Inn," he advised, "they got rooms for fair prices, and good food and drink as well. Tell old Maven I sent ye, she'll get you an even sweeter price on some of her spiced cakes." He winked and pointed to his field. "Uses the wheat I sell'd her to make 'em."

I thanked Halen and made to move on, but his children, two young girls with their mother's long dark blonde hair ran up to the fence and shouted hello at me. I smiled at their grinning faces and blew them a kiss, casting a minor cantrip which sent a flickering ball of pink sparklers spiraling over towards them before exploding harmlessly into flower petals. The two clapped loudly, obviously used to some degree of magic thanks to my brethren in the nearby town. Halen nodded to me in thanks, and took his children by the hand to lead them to their mother once again. I sighed contentedly and hurried on, wanting to make Lunas by nightfall.

Sure enough the town came into view as soon as I crested the hill. It looked like a fairly large village. I could see businesses, homes with large gardens, and a large lake many miles in the distance. "That must be Kriss Lake," I muttered to myself, referring to a massive lake that bordered the western edge of the Feywild. I'd never laid eyes on it, but had wanted to see it my whole life. With that in mind, I set off down the path.

Lights flickered to life in the village as the sun dropped below the horizon. My elf eyes adjusted quickly to the change, seeing just as well in the starlight as in sunlight. Soon I came to the gate, which stood open still. The guards were two of my own people, holding bent longbows and staring out over the fields. They stopped me briefly and asked me my business, and were delighted to learn that I was newly set out from the forest on my life's journey. They wished me luck and the blessing of Corellon, and allowed me to pass through the gate.

Stepping lightly after that pleasant encounter, I made my way towards the town's center. Children still ran through the streets, but the calls of parents were beginning to ring out. The village was beginning to go to sleep for the night. One building however was still quite busy, and somewhat loud: the Black Unicorn Inn. I smiled at the sight; my people do not enter Reverie until much later at night than when humans enter "sleep." I'm told they require at least eight hours, and they are nigh unconscious in this state. Reverie by comparison is a four hour period of meditational trance, which relaxes the body and refreshes the mind. I was willing to bet that many of the inn's customers were my people.

I was about to open the door and step inside when a man stumbled out, clearly inebriated, tipped his hat to me and strode down the street with an uneven gait. He was chuckling and whistling as he went. "Better than seeing someone thrown out I suppose," I intoned. Then I opened the door and went inside.

My first impression was one of quiet glee. The room was low lit by a few oil lamps along the walls. The barkeep, who I took to be Maven, was a middle-aged woman of medium build with long black hair shot through with silver streaks. She looked up as I entered and waved to me over the roar of conversation and rowdiness. I smiled back at her and walked over to the bar, settling onto a stool and dropping my backpack onto the floor beside me.

"Hello, miss. My name is Maven, may I ask yours?" Her voice was gentle and reedy, but easy to hear over the noise. "Luthien Amil, of Styrewood" I introduced myself. "Styrewood?" She asked as she picked up a stein to wipe out. "I don't believe I've heard of the place."

"It's essentially a part of Wrenloft," I supplied, trying to be helpful. "Ah, I see now dear," she said, recognizing the name. "So what will you be needing? A room for the night, some food and drink perhaps?"

"That would be wonderful," I said, grinning back at her. "Also, a man named Halen told me to ask about your spiced cakes." Maven grinned widely at that, reached beneath the counter and produced a small plate with two fresh cakes sitting pretty upon it. "Wine?" she asked, and I nodded assent gratefully. She poured a glass from a fine green bottle of clearly elvish wine and set it down in front of me. "Just three silver for the room dear," she said. I reached for my coin pouch and asked, "how much for the cakes and wine?"

"Oh, those are on me dearie," she replied with a smile. I thanked her and handed her three silver pieces, not even a trifle of what I had currently. With that she had to move on and attend to other customers, leaving me to eat my cakes and drink my wine. Both were excellent, and once I finished my cakes, I nursed my wine and turned in my stool to get a better look at the rest of the customers in the inn that night.

I saw mostly elves, as well as a good number of humans and even a few half-elves. I'd only met one or two in my lifetime, as most visitors to Wrenloft never wandered out to Styrewood. I also saw a pair of what could only be dwarves sitting in a corner together drinking from massive steins of beer and singing bawdy songs about dwarf women. I grinned to myself. All I'd heard of dwarves seemed correct, and I couldn't help but smile at the sight of them.

After turning my gaze towards the rest of the inn, I caught a snatch of conversation coming from a table nearby. "Damn wolves'll have every last one of my chickens afore long if I can't find some way to catch 'em or drive 'em off." It was a man, clearly a farmer, commiserating with two of his fellows. He was rather unremarkable, brown hair and eyes, a bowl cut, unshaved. But his tone caught my attention, and I had to speak up.

"Wolves are eating your chickens, good sir? Perhaps I can help?" The farmer and his friends looked up at me, sitting there with my wine, and started to chuckle. I'll admit, at times I can have a temper, be it ever so slight. So rather than do something truly brash, I simply invoked a minor cantrip and caused the flame of the candle on their table to suddenly grow to be a foot high, then just as quickly shrink to its former unimpressive height.

Suffice it to say the farmers, as well as a good deal of the rest of the inn's patrons stopped suddenly and stared at me. I calmly sipped from my wine and flipped my hair back over my shoulders, revealing my pointed ears more clearly. "Perhaps," I reiterated, "I can help you with your wolf problem." The man and his friends looked at me with fresh eyes, taking in for the first time it seemed my ears, my clothing, and the aara in its holster at my side. "Perhaps you're right miss," the farmer said, clearly sweating. "Forgive us if we insulted you, I beg." I nodded my assent and asked politely, "so how many wolves are we talking about?"

The rest of the inn went back to their business, and I noted Maven giving me a somewhat stern look out of the corner of my eye. I nodded apologetically for overreacting, and she nodded back seemingly satisfied with the small act of contrition. The farmer introduced himself finally then. "My name is Toliver miss. And I believe there to be five wolves at least, more or less. May I inquire as to your name miss?"

"Luthien Amil, sir. And five wolves should present me no problem at all. Will tomorrow night be a suitable time for me to resolve this issue for you?"

"Indeed. And I shall be sure to have a proper reward prepared for your services should you succeed. Meet me at my home tomorrow at nightfall?"

"That will work. Where is your home?"

"Down the west road a piece, with a henhouse just behind and a broken fence around the side."

"Tomorrow at dusk then."

"I shall be waiting for you."

"Very well then. It has been a pleasure meeting you Toliver."

"And yourself, Miss Amil."

"Goodnight sir."

"Goodnight miss."

I turned back to the bar to find Maven standing directly on the other side of the bar from me. "A bit of a spectacle you put on there, Luthien dear," she said quietly. "I wanted them to know I was serious, and that they shouldn't doubt me." She nodded and refilled my wineglass. "Can I take you to be an adventurer then, dear?" she asked. I grinned and nodded to her vigorously. "Well then," she queried, "might I ask your help in a personal matter?" I leaned forward, intrigued. She pulled forth from the bar a finely decorated chaise silver mug, marred by a crack in the metal the extended from the lip to the base. She winced when she looked at it.

"My favorite stein, and my finest. Cracked in a bar fight a year ago when a patron took it from my hands and lobbed it into a fixture on the wall. Ain't been allowed back since, and the local smith hasn't the skill to mend my mug. Have you any magic that might be able to fix it for me? I'd be ever so grateful if you did. I'd not charge you a cent for board here ever after miss."

She ended with a small smile and a hopeful note in her voice. I couldn't disappoint her, and wouldn't have anyway. I always keep a mending spell handy, and there was one unspent in my daily repertoire right then and there. Without further ado, I spun my fingers through the familiar, appropriate gestures and mouthed a few special words. Then I laid my hand on the side of the mug, and the fissure in its side snapped closed with whisper of sound. It jumped slightly in her hand, and she started and let out a slight cry of shock. Then she stared at the mended stein as if it had become a spider in her hand. After a minute of silence she looked at me with tears in her eyes and spoke in a whisper, "thank you dear. Oh thank you. My husband, gods rest his soul, bought this for me almost twenty years ago. It's meant so much more to me since his passing." She broke down for a moment, and I looked away so I wouldn't see and embarrass her.

After but a minute she turned back to me, and I to her, and she said again, "Thank you so much dear. Not once more shall you pay for a room in my inn, I swear it." And she smiled at me serenely, and placed her mended stein back beneath the bar. As she turned to tend to other customers I caught her hand on the bar and she turned back to me. "Think nothing of it," I said, smiling myself. She nodded her thanks once again, and I released her to go about her duties.

The night wore on, and customers drifted out. Maven cleaned up the steins and glasses, and the rest of the mess. When all was done, I asked her to show me to my room. She obliged, taking me up a flight of stairs in the corner of the room and down to the end of the hallway on the left. The room was cozy, with a window pointing out towards Kriss Lake, a bed, a wardrobe, and a bedside table with a candle sitting on it. A pair of lanterns also lit the room from their fixtures on the wall. Maven bid me goodnight, and I set my things down, undressed, and lay in the bed. After considering it for a moment, I placed an alarm on the door that would wake me if someone entered during my Reverie. With that done, I lay still and drifted off until morning.

Once I awoke, I dispelled the alarm and performed my daily calisthenics. Stretching is a fine way to begin the day, and it would prepare me for my later exertions. I dressed then, and studied my spellbook. Once I finished all of those things, I picked up my backpack, left the room locked, and went downstairs. Maven was apparently still asleep, but a young man with red hair was cooking and serving breakfast to those patrons staying at the inn who were awake. The sun had been risen for almost two full hours by that time, so it wasn't surprising to find others active already.

I took a breakfast of jellied toast and cider from the young man, whose name turned out to be Ethan. I paid the silver for it and sat at a table by a window, watching Lunas come to life. One I finished breakfast I asked Ethan how far Lunas was from Kriss Lake. After hearing it was perhaps fifteen miles, I decided to spend the day walking to the lake and exploring, then leaving in order to make it back in time to meet Toliver at his home. I had heard that there was an ancient tree-tower on a small island on the lake. This tree-tower was said to be the abandoned home of an ancient elven order of warriors called the "Eternal Blades." I wanted a glimpse of it before the day was out.

After taking stock of my food and waterskin, I bought some trail rations from Ethan to eat during the day and refilled my skin. Then I shouldered my backpack, made sure my aara was holstered firmly at my side, and left the Black Unicorn. I then followed the road out of the village and towards Kriss Lake.

The day was fine, bright and sunny with a brisk, light breeze. Animals were out in force, enjoying the spring weather. The trail was well-worn, the lake clearly a popular destination with the locals. I didn't notice any in front of me on the road, but a group of young humans and half-elves left perhaps fifteen minutes after I did. We matched paces, and they stayed equidistant to me the whole way to the lake. It was past midday when I finally arrived, and the lake glistened in the afternoon sun. The shoreline stretched out far to the northwest, and met with the trees of the Feywild in the east. Far off in the distance, I could indeed see the tower-tree that marked the island where the Eternal Blades had once made their home.

I explored the shoreline for nearly an hour and a half, eating my lunch of berries and trail biscuits. The group of youths reached the lake after a short time, and immediately began diving into the crisp lake water. We peacefully ignored each other for the whole of my stay. I found a few interesting shells in the sand, and was able to make out fish swimming just below the surface of the water in certain areas. Before long though, I felt that it was time to leave in order to be on time for my meeting with Toliver, as well as to have a meal. I left the lake, and promised myself I would come back one day, perhaps to explore the island, perhaps to swim.

The walk back to Lunas seemed to take less time than the walk to Kriss Lake. The sun began to set as I neared the village, and I stopped in the Black Unicorn in order to have a quick meal. Maven greeted me this time, and I told her of my day while I ate. I then departed with a quick goodbye and walked out into the swiftly darkening sky to find Toliver's home.

It wasn't hard to find. His description was spot on, and true to his word he was waiting for me. He waved to me when he saw me coming down the road, and I quickened my steps. "So," he said when I got within earshot, "true to your word. I respect that."

"I could say the same to you," I replied, "thank you for meeting me." He nodded and opened his front gate to allow me entrance. Toliver led me around to his back yard, where his henhouse resided. The chickens inside were docile and calm, and bedded down for the night. I noticed the rooster standing by the entrance however, as if on guard. The farmer knelt in the dirt outside the coop and showed me wolf tracks in the dirt. I'm no ranger, but I could tell there were at least three wolves, and likely more than that. "Five, you said?" He nodded grimly. "What is your plan?" he asked. I shook my hair from my eyes and stared pensively off into the fields.

"I'd rather not simply kill them," I spoke up after a minute. "Wolves must do as wolves do after all." He nodded assent again, but grimaced slightly. "I figured ye'd say that," he said gruffly. "Ye elves are known for yer fondness for animals." He shook his head. "What then will you do? Me livelihood is being threatened here, and that I canno' have." I nodded at that and answered, "my magic gives me less drastic options than bloodshed. I will wait for the wolves, and then cast a spell to put them into a trance. I will then warn them against stealing food from the village. I may also take them with me when I leave, though I am not sure how soon that may be. Does this sound acceptable to you?"

The farmer nodded once more and replied, "Aye. If it can be done, then ye'll get no complaints from me. I'll not stand in ye're way. I thank ye." I flashed him a smile and said, "Very well. Now, go inside and I shall stand guard. I will hide myself so that the wolves will not sense me, and surprise them if they appear."

"They've shown up for the last three nights," he replied. "Likely they'll show up tonight as well." He then said goodnight, and went inside his home. I then hid in the weeds near his fence, and settled in to wait. I set a mental alarm spell over the backyard and waited.

The alarm roused me from my musings some few hours later, when the entire village was surely asleep. Wolves were prowling around the back fence, slipping between the posts and circling the henhouse. The rooster was nowhere to be seen, but I could hear faint, fearful clucking from within. I stood slowly, recalling the gestures and words to the spell I was planning to use. Then I stepped forward from the weeds and coughed loudly. The wolves, five indeed, all turned towards me, taking an offensive stance low to the ground and growling at me. I pushed aside the fear that I might fail and be torn apart, and began mouthing the words to the spell. I took another step forward and held up my right hand, ticking a finger back and forth in a perfect cadence, like a metronome. I uttered the last syllable to the spell, and felt it succeed.

The wolves immediately ceased growling, all staring intently at my ticking finger as the hypnosis spell took hold. "Come," I said firmly, my tone implying strict command. They all sauntered gracefully forward and stood before me, patiently awaiting my next order. "You will no longer come near this village," I commanded. "You will hunt in the fields and the woods as is your right." They nodded as if they understood me, and subconsciously they did. I continued, "You will all obey any commands I give from this day forward. In return, I will be sure to treat you well. Hunt in the woods to the north of town, and I will find you there when I depart. You will accompany me then." The wolves bowed their heads once again, and one nudged forward slightly as if to be petted.

With that resolved, I waved my hand and pointed out towards the meadow imperiously. "Now go. Be safe, and remember my commands. Even when you awake, you will be loyal to me." Then I snapped my fingers. The pack all bowed low once more before turning tail and setting off at a relaxed lope. Once they were out of sight, I allowed my shoulders to momentarily slump and I breathed a sigh of relief. As calm as I'd seemed, the encounter with the wolves had been stressful. I'd practiced using _hypnotism_ before, but never on quite so many creatures at once. I didn't know before now whether or not I'd be able to really pull it off, or if I'd need to resort to other measures. Now though, I felt a glowing sense of pride. I'd just successfully survived my first dangerous job as an adventurer. I'd done it! I allowed myself a moment to feel pleased with myself before reclaiming my backpack from the ground and extracting a piece of parchment and a stick of charcoal. I quickly scrawled a note to Toliver informing him of my success and that he could find me at the Black Unicorn the next day. After that I left the note on his front stoop, and headed back to the inn to have my nightly rest.

The next morning I awoke from my Reverie just after dawn and went through my calisthenics, spell preparation, washed in the room's basin, and dressed for the day. When I went downstairs for breakfast, Toliver was already seated at the bar waiting for me. He smiled when he noticed me coming down the stairs and motioned for me to join him. I did with a smile, and when I ordered my breakfast from Ethan, he offered to pay for me. I accepted with as much grace as I could, and told him the story of what happened the night before. Once I'd finished, the farmer was left staring at me with something much like admiration and awe. After a moment I realized the inn had gone quiet, and I noticed the rest of the patrons were _also_ staring at me, human and elf alike. Even Ethan was listening, although he was trying not to let on.

They all quickly recognized that I'd stopped talking and went back to their business. I felt another brief moment of glowing pride, glad to be of service. "I can't thank ye enough for saving me chickens, and me livelihood," Toliver said then. "But I _can_ reward ye, as best as a poor farmer can. Take this," he said, and handed me a small pouch of coins. He also dropped a small agate into my hand. I nodded to him and said, "Thank you Toliver. I appreciate it." I smiled brightly at him; it was more than I'd thought I would receive, and I was truly grateful.

The farmer shook my hand then and we finished up our breakfast. Once Ethan had taken back our dishes Toliver asked, "So Luthien, are you leaving town soon or staying on for a time?"

"I plan to leave tomorrow," I answered. "I doubt I'll be staying in any one place overly long for some time yet. When my kind set out on our life's journey, we tend to wander a great deal." The man nodded and sat silently pondering for a few moments. Eventually he spoke up. "Well, I'll be sad to see ye go for sure. Ye'll look in on me and say goodbye afore ye leave, won't ye?"

"Of course I will," I answered. "I'd be a sorry friend indeed if I didn't." That brought a smile to his face. "Fine news indeed," he said brightly. "I'd like to do one more service to pay ye back before ye go. Ye needn't replenish your food supply here or anywhere else in town afore leaving, I'll have some fresh supplies ready for ye to take tomorrow, enough for a week at least. Should be enough to get ye wherever it is ye're going, right?" I smiled in gratitude and nodded to him. "Yes, that should do nicely, thank you so much! I'm planning on turning north from here, to see the mountains up close. Do you know of any towns in that direction?" The man nodded sagely and replied, "Aye, ye can find High Tower to the north and around the mountains to the east. Should be signs on the road. But be careful miss, for orcs an' goblins an' worse dwell near those parts. Got themselves snug little holes to live in up in those hills and mountains, and they like to prey on travelers and the unwary. If that's yer road, then I wish ye luck and a safe journey."

He ended rather solemnly, clearly worried for me. I very nearly reconsidered my course then and there, but I reminded myself of my training, and my experience with the wolves. I remembered also that those five wolves would be accompanying me on my journey north. I wouldn't be alone. With those things in mind, my resolve strengthened, and I felt my spine straighten slightly. "I have no fear of orcs and goblinoids," I said firmly and somewhat loudly. The attention of the inn's patrons drifted back to me at that. Unconcerned, I continued on to say, "I am a master of both the blade and the arcane arts. No monster shall hinder my progress." Leaning in and lowering my voice, I then said quietly to Toliver, "Besides, I won't be alone. The wolves, remember?" And I winked at him.

He started, taken aback. Then he looked back at me and his eyes sparkled. "Aye, I'd forgotten that for a moment," he said. "Good on ye miss. Ye're right. Let no beast stand in ye're way, and let any that do taste ye're steel. I'll not doubt ye anymore. He stood then and stretched, then said, "Well, I'd better go; my fields need tending. I'll see ye on the 'morrow?" I nodded assent and we bid each other goodbye for now.

The inn's patrons had once again returned to their own business; the buzz of conversation filled the room. I decided to send my last day in Lunas perusing the local businesses and touring the rest of the village. During that day, I visited the town's blacksmith, tailor, apothecary, and general goods store, as well as the local temple which was dedicated to both Corellon Larethian and the human deity Pelor. I took lunch at the baker's, and entertained children in the street with small displays of magic such as flashing lights and levitating small objects.

Finally, with the day near its end I retired to the inn and took my evening meal. Maven wished me luck and a safe journey, and gave me more cakes to take along. Many of the patrons of the Black Unicorn also wished me a safe journey, and thanked me for livening things up a bit. A local bard even made up a quick little tune and played it for me. It was rather thrilling to be so welcomed in a place that wasn't my home.

Eventually the night grew older, and most of the inn's customers went home. Maven cleaned up, wished me luck once again, and told me goodnight. That night my Reverie was somewhat shallow, my excitement for the open road apparent. After waking and going through my morning routine, I collected my backpack for the last time and went downstairs for my final breakfast in Lunas. Ethan had instructions from Maven that it was to be on the house, and he and the morning customers all wished me a safe road before I set out to meet with Toliver at his home again.

He greeted me at his fence once more, and handed me a week's worth of fresh provisions, just as he'd promised. I thanked him once again, and we bid each other farewell. We waved to each other as I set off down the north road out of Lunas. Now, after three days in the village, I squared my shoulders and strode once more into the wilderness.

I found my friendly pack of wolves in a large cluster of trees a mile north of Lunas. They were busy stretching and laying in the shade when I came upon them. They all leapt to their paws when they saw me coming through the trees, and ran towards me barking and yipping. I almost flinched, thinking for a moment that my spell had not been as effective as I'd believed. My fears were assuaged when I saw their tails wagging and they all crowded me, nuzzling my hands and legs looking to be petted. I laughed and petted my new friends, giving them all some attention.

After a few minutes of that I stood up straight again and looked fondly at the pack. "Sit," I called out sweetly. They all obeyed immediately, tails still wagging. "We're going north towards the mountains," I explained to them. "I want you to follow along behind me, hidden in the trees and the fields, but stay close enough to warn me of danger and protect me if need be. You may hunt when we pause for the night." The wolves nodded as if in understanding, and I smiled widely at them. "Well then," I said, turning, "let's go." The wolves stood and barked assent at me. I walked back out of the woods and onto the road, turning north once more. The pack blended into the surrounding trees and tall grasses, and I could occasionally see or hear them as they drifted from cover to cover while we went.

The day seemed to take less time to pass than I'd thought, perhaps because of my silent company. It was nice to be traveling with a group again, even if they weren't very talkative. The sun fell from the sky, and after night was on fully I stopped to make camp and give the pack time to hunt before bedding down. I needn't have worried. They were back with freshly swollen bellies just over half an hour after I released them. That night, I laid on my bedroll surrounded by wolves for a few hours before entering Reverie. It was warm and peaceful, as well as extremely comforting and relaxing.

The next day brought me to the north mountain range. I didn't know the name of the range, if it even had one. The view was breathtaking though. As the pack and I walked, the terrain changed from open fields and meadows with clusters of woodland here and there to the foothills of the mountains. Suddenly the road was nothing but hills, some of them quite steep, and the forest became the dominant force in the scenery as we left the peaceful meadows behind. We came to a fork in the road; the left path continued to the northwest along the range, whereas the right path turned due east to curve around the foremost mountain in the range.

The sun began to set as we rounded the mountain. The pack and I pressed on into the darkness further, as I was eager to reach High Tower in good time. My eagerness was tempered however, when I saw firelights in the distance. Toliver's warnings of orcs and goblinoids near the mountains flashed into my mind for a brief moment. I shook my head and straightened up. For all I knew, it was a group of travelers on the road making camp for the night. I saw no fresh tracks on the road, so I assumed they were heading in the opposite direction as I was. Still, I decided I would stop and say hello, perhaps ask to join them for the night. My mind made up, I continued on with a spring in my step.

My mind was in fact so made up; I almost didn't hear the warning growl of one of the wolves before I walked straight into the clearing unannounced. I froze in place immediately and suddenly felt very foolish. I motioned for the wolves to come to me as I crouched down and strained to listen. Voices drifted from around the fire, harsh and guttural. I shivered, though I knew not what they were saying. I had some command of the Orcish tongue, a byproduct of them being my kinds' hated rivals. The elf who'd taught me their language had also done a fair job of impersonating their accent, it seemed. Still, I was too far away and they were speaking too quietly for me to make out what they were saying. I couldn't tell exactly how many there were, but I knew there were at least three or four, maybe more.

I stalked quietly forward, trying to get a look at creatures and hear what they were discussing. My stealth skills were good enough for me to slip quietly behind a tree just outside the firelight, and I counted six orcs sitting on rolled furs around the campfire. Unfortunately, I was only able to make out the words "find more travelers" before I shifted my weight and a twig snapped under my right foot.

"Damn!" I cursed quietly and shifted my hand towards the hilt of my aara. The orcs scrambled to their feet, bringing spears and axes to bear, one of them taking up a heavy crossbow and cranking it to full draw length. The one I'd heard speaking of finding travelers pointed in my general direction as I peeked through the leaves. They must have seen me, because they started shouting and all pointed their weapons at me. One with a spear began to crash forward through the light undergrowth towards me, howling "Elf!" I stumbled back slightly and glanced about; looking for my wolves, but found them nowhere. Realizing they'd fled and I was on my own against six orcs, I cursed once more and stepped out to meet the charging orc.

I was afraid; this was my first true life and death confrontation, and as a young elf I had much life to lose. But I was also furious. Stealth had never been my strongest suit, but I'd attempted it nonetheless and failed. On top of that, these were _orcs._ Tales of their atrocities were among the most common told in Wrenloft when speaking of our many enemies, our gods themselves warred with each other. So my mind was once again made up. Calm descended over me as those thoughts flashed through my mind. Sweeping out from behind the tree, I lashed my aara, seeking blood and the thrill of earnest combat for the first time. I was not disappointed.

The chain and blade-segments of my weapon lashed out as quick as a flash, drawing a bright line of blood across the beast's torso as it rushed me. It's friends jeered at both it and me, calling it a coward and me a weakling. They were content to watch for a moment it seemed. The enraged orc continued its charge, and stabbed at me with its spear. I relied on my quick elven reflexes, sidestepping the thrust and moving forward so that I was behind the creature. I then spun and pulled on my aara, now limp on the ground. The whip-blade caught the orc's calf and wrapped around it, digging into the meat of its leg. I gave a swift tug, and the orc tripped, falling face-first onto the ground with its spear trapped beneath it. In no mood to play games, I pulled my dagger from its sheath with my left hand and slammed it home in the back of the beast's neck, killing it. I wiped the blade quickly on its shirt and returned it to its sheath. The remaining orcs, now behind me, were still jeering. I cursed my luck that the wolves had left, and prepared to turn and face the five orcs that were left.

And suddenly a most joyous sound broke out behind me: the sound of howling wolves, and the crash of armored orcs hitting the ground. I spun to find my pack, my dear wolf pack, attacking the orcs with terrible ferocity. I grinned fiercely; I should have remembered the favored tactics of the wolf. Two orcs were on the ground being mauled by two of my pack, the other three were still standing but being harassed by my other three wolves. The three of my pack attacking the standing orcs were rushing back and forth, hitting an orc from one side and biting at its legs and arms before circling and attacking another from behind. They ran circles around the orcs, and it was a gorgeous display of ferocity and skill. But alas, it wasn't to continue for long.

The largest orc, one with a greataxe clutched in its bloody fists, turned and lashed out as one of the pack circled up behind it. Its boot caught my wolf squarely in the side and sent it crashing into the bushes off to the side; I heard it whimper in pain. I growled deep in my throat and launched myself forward. My anger at the pain this orc had caused my friend simmered in my mind, and I lashed out at it with my aara. Dumb as the creature was, it never saw it coming. It had raised its axe to strike at another of my wolves; my strike severed both of its arms halfway between the elbow and the wrist. The creature howled in pain and looked at its new stumps as its axe fell to the dirt. It looked over at me, its eyes widening in fear. It needn't have bothered; my next strike took its head from its shoulders.

I took stock of the situation for a moment. The two orcs on the ground laid still, blood pouring from their necks. They were clearly dead or close to it. The last two orcs were busy fending off my four remaining active wolves. No way was I going to let them hurt my pack anymore. I recalled a spell that I'd prepared in case of emergency and shouted to wolves, "Move away!" The pack scattered into the bushes, and the two orcs turned to face me. "Hey!" I shouted at them in Orcish. The foul language tasted like ashes in my mouth. "Eat this!" The orcs looked at each other, confused. I made an arcane gesture with my left hand and shouted a word of power. A flash of shimmering rainbow hues burst in a wide arc from my outstretched hand and washed over the two monsters. Their eyes widened as the mind-warping light overwhelmed their sense of sight and short-circuited their brains for a time. They fell over, knocked unconscious by my _color spray._ "Pack," I called in Elvish, "finish them!" The four remaining wolves loped out from the trees and descended on the unconscious orcs. I didn't watch. I turned to find and tend to my wounded pack member.

The wolf was already licking its own wound when I found it in the bushes; a sprained foreleg. Most elves know the basics of veterinary medicine, and I was no exception. My poor wounded wolf reluctantly allowed me to press a numbing poultice into its ankle and wrap a bandage around it. After gingerly testing the leg and finding that it could walk well enough, the wolf was greeted by the rest of the pack with high spirits. I smiled, glad I could help, and that my actions hadn't gotten any of them killed.

The bodies of the orcs exuded a stench fouler than anything I'd ever smelled before. I covered my nose and mouth with my hand before I got too close. As disgusting as the creatures were, they'd likely have _something_ an adventurer like me could use, and all the tales I'd heard included mention of the adventurer's most common vice: looting. So I gathered my fortitude and moved forward to rummage through the sacks and pockets of my victims.

It was fairly meager pickings. There was a smattering of silver and copper pieces, as well as a few gold coins. An expensive-looking candelabra and a set of silver flatware were also in evidence, along with the most valuable thing they had: two potions that careful scrutiny and a minor dweomer revealed to be imbued with positive energy. They were healing potions; liquid enchanted with holy magic by a cleric or other spiritual spellcaster that would cause wounds to immediately seal themselves, repairing damaged flesh with nary a scar. I clutched the precious vials of clear, glowing liquid to my chest; they would be invaluable to someone in my profession.

After tucking my newfound loot in my backpack I kicked dirt over the orc's fire and stacked their bodies into a pile. Then I released the pack to hunt while I used a spade I found in their belongings to quickly dig a shallow mass grave. I pushed them in, covered the hole, and all in the course of only an hour and a half. My clothes were bloody and covered in trail dust, so I took a nighttime dip in a nearby stream while my newly returned wolves kept watch, washing off my clothes as I did. When I finished I dried off, put on fresh clothes, hung the others up to dry, and laid out my own bedroll in another clearing a ways from the orc camp. My body was tired from a day of travel and a night of fighting and hard work; I had a small meal and entered Reverie.

When I awoke in the morning, I felt utterly rejuvenated. The reservoir of energy that spellcasters draw upon to cast their spells felt broader, deeper. My muscles thrummed with power and upon standing up, I felt as if the grace of my kind was stronger in me now more than ever before. When I opened my spellbook that morning, I flipped further into it than I did normally, researching more advanced spells that before were out of my reach. Upon trying to commit them to memory, I found that I now could. The experiences I'd had on my journey had allowed me to grow and expand my power. My mother, the masters I'd trained under, and the adventurers whose stories I'd listened so raptly to had all said the same thing: the only way to get better at a thing is to do it. I'd seen, I'd done, and I'd improved. It was a magical feeling.

The pack and I continued east, moving surely and steadily through the forested foothills of the mountains. The trail began to curve slowly northward as the day wore on, and signs on the road marked our passage: we were closing in on the town of High Tower. I whistled as I walked, feeling safe and happy, and proud of the life I was already making for myself on the road. Alas, it was too good to be true, and no one's luck lasts forever.

My first true run-in with misfortune began when one of the pack appeared next to me and nudged my hand, whining softly. I stopped and looked around. The light was only just beginning to fade to orange in the sky, and there were hours of daylight left still. The rest of the wolves were in a ring around me in the brush, alert and uneasy, their fur bristling and their ears laid back. I listened hard, and heard branches cracking not far off the road on the left-hand side. Whatever it was sounded big, likely a bear. I smiled, thinking to go and see this bear and perhaps befriend it as I had the wolves. I had seen many in my time in the Feywild after all, and none had been hostile towards my kind.

I petted the wolf beside me briefly to comfort it. "Steady now," I said gently to my pack, "we'll go see what all the racket is about." They didn't like it, but they followed me off the road and into the woods. We neared the source of the crashing sound, and the volume picked up by quite a bit. I was looking forward to seeing a bear of such massive size as this one surely was. I'd forgotten that I was not in the Feywild anymore, and my previous good fortune had lulled me into a false sense of security. It almost got me killed.

A shadowy figure roughly the size and shape of a bear came into view, and I quickened my pace. As I rounded a tree and came into the same partial clearing the animal was in I started to greet it. "Hello, my frie-. " The words caught in my throat. The creature facing me was roughly the size and shape of a large bear. Its coat was yellow-brown and ragged, and looked more like feathers than fur almost. It had claws like a bear, but they appeared longer and sharper, like the talons of a bird. And there was no bear's head on its shoulders; it had the head of a large and evil-looking horned owl, with a sharp ivory-colored beak. This was not a peaceful creature of the woodland; this was a monstrous magical hybrid that thrived on carnage: an owlbear.

I stumbled back into the tree I'd just walked around. The creature heard me suck in a panicked breath as I did, and it turned to eye me hungrily. It stood up on its hind legs and opened its beak to roar at me like a bear, waving its talons at me. But instead of the powerful roar of a bear, the high-pitched shriek of a hunting owl came from the beast's beak. The sound was enough to make me back into the tree again. I tried to pull myself together as it dropped back onto all fours and started to pad towards me. My limbs were frozen with shock and fear; I couldn't move! Suddenly the owlbear stopped in midstride and cocked its head, sniffing. All at once, howling broke out from all sides as my wolves once again demonstrated their favorite tactic. The five of them rushed in from the surrounding bushes, nipping at the creature's legs and haunches, forcing it to turn and try to defend itself. They bloodied its flanks, but that only angered it.

The owlbear shrieked again and swept its claws in a wide arc, catching one of the pack and flinging the wolf into a tree. The wolf yelped and lay whimpering on the ground, clearly wounded. The creature struck again, its talons opening a wide gash in the flank of one of my friends. They were losing, and the beast wasn't slowing down at all. I snapped back to reality, forcing myself to act. I drew my aara and recalled a spell that would protect me from the creature's powerful blows. My remaining three active wolves (the one with the gash limped over to its fallen brethren and lay beside it) successfully harried the owlbear without any further injuries while I cast my spell. An arcane gesture and a few choice words later an invisible disc of force sprang into existence, floating before me like a shield. I snapped my whipsword once to limber it and stepped forward, lashing out at the beast. I drew a long line of blood across its shoulder, causing it to refocus its attention on me. It didn't matter; my fear had turned to fury, and I was ready for this fight.

It let out another shriek and charged towards me, so I decided to make it pay for the two wolves it had wounded. I let my aara trail across the ground and dashed to the side. The bulky owlbear slid to a halt and turned back towards me, eyes ablaze with blind rage. I grinned savagely and yanked on my weapon; it coiled and wrapped itself around the owlbear's leg, digging into its flesh. The beast stopped in its tracks and began pulling at the blade. I was happy to oblige in the impromptu tug-of-war game it wanted, so I tightened my grip on the aara's hilt and pulled as hard as I could. Imagine my surprise when the tugging sensation lessened almost immediately, and my whipsword sheared the creatures right foreleg clean off.

I laughed and smiled a bloody smile. "How do you like that!?" I called out at the monster. It shrieked in pain and fury; my wolves, standing back but smelling blood, howled with glee. Then the owlbear focused on me once more and charged forward, standing up on its hind legs again and swiping at me with its remaining claw. The powerful blow was too swift and unexpected for me to avoid, but my _shield_ spell was still in place. The creature's talons struck sparks off of the force projection in the air, and I took the opening provided. I whipped my aara at the owlbear with all my might, scoring a hit across its midsection.

Once again it shrieked, and lunged forward at me. It toppled over, falling on me. The _shield_ hovered before me still, but I was knocked to the ground. My spell held the beast above me, and it started thrusting its beak at my exposed face and neck. I squirmed and struggled, dodging left and right, my aara useless at this angle. My wolves came forward, attacking the hind legs of the beast once more, and they distracted it enough for me to drop my whipsword and pull my dagger from its sheath. When the owlbear turned back to face me again, I stabbed it in one bulging yellow eye. My blade bit in deep and true, finding the creature's brain. It slumped forward with my dagger protruding from its face, finally dead.

I slowly and carefully slid out from beneath my _shield_ , letting the monster slide off of it as it rose with me. Not needing it any longer, I dispelled the effect. Observing the effects of the fight on my wolves saddened me. One of the two injured was limping but otherwise unharmed, matching its brethren who had managed to avoid injury this time. The wolf with the gashed flank was in worse condition though. It had lost much blood, and healing magic is outside the purview of arcane casters. The whimpering and obvious pain of my companion moved me. I gave the wounded wolf a healing potion, pouring it down the animal's throat. The glowing liquid did it's work; almost immediately the large wounds began to steam slightly and seal themselves. My wolf stopped making pained noises and after only moments stood up and walked to me, licking my face. The others all joined in, glad of my assistance.

The moment was bittersweet for me. My actions had nearly resulted in these animals' deaths. I stood and took a minute to think before turning back towards the road and motioning for the pack to follow me. Upon reaching the road once more I tarried, still unhappy with my decision, but resolute just the same. I sighed and turned to my pack, and they gathered around me eagerly with their tongues and tails wagging. "My friends," I said quietly, "I'm afraid you have to leave me." The wolves ears drooped at that and the wagging stopped. A couple of them whined. I went on, "Three of you have been hurt while traveling with me. I can't have that, and I don't wish for more harm to come to you because of me. So leave. Return to your former hunting grounds and be at peace. But remember to stay away from the village." The pack looked sad and dejected; they were being dismissed. The fact that it was for their protection meant little. I blinked tears from my eyes and gestured widely with my hand. "I have enjoyed your company and appreciated your help greatly. But you must go now. Away with you, my friends. Goodbye."

My wolves padded over to me, and I patted their heads and scratched their ears as they licked my hands. Then they turned away from me regretfully, looking back every few dozen yards as they loped away back to the south. I wiped my eyes and spun on my heel, continuing north on the road. I heard howling far in the distance behind me that night, and my eyes teared up again for a moment. I was alone on the road once more.

I continued on far into the night, and made camp alongside the road when I finally stopped. The next day I was tired and sore, as my Reverie was restless and disturbed without the pack around me. Even in the short time they had been with me, I had become used to their presence. My journey that day was uninterrupted, punctuated only by my brief meals. All the while High Tower was getting closer and closer. Finally as the light of the day began to fade once more, I saw lights flickering in the evening light far ahead. My heart leapt, and the weariness of the journey was shed from my shoulders. I quickened my pace and within the hour came before the great gates of High Tower.

There were no outlying farms here, and the entire town seemed to be surrounded by a fortress wall of tree trunks planted side-by-side vertically in the ground, the tops sharpened like stakes. The wood was stained a peculiar shade of orange-brown; upon further scrutiny I recognized it as an alchemical solution meant to render the wood less flammable. Two human guards stood outside the large wooden gates wielding pikes and bucklers, wearing chain mail with shortswords belted at their sides. Torches in brackets lit the outside, and more guards with bows and crossbows could be glimpsed through the points of the wall and standing watch in guard towers placed periodically around it. They stared out into the forest surrounding the town, watching vigilantly for threats. The town was much larger than Lunas; almost the size of some of Wrenloft's districts.

I strode purposefully up to the two outside guards with a spring in my step. They looked at me curiously; night had fallen and travelers are much less common at nighttime. "State your business," the one on the left said firmly. His mustache twitched as he spoke. "I am Luthien Amil," I said, bowing my head respectfully. "I seek a bed for the night, and work for one of my talents." The mustachioed guard looked me over carefully and asked, "You an adventurer?" I nodded politely. "Then you can find rest at the Red Dragon Inn, and likely work as well. If not, try the mage's tower or the lord's mansion perhaps. Make no trouble, and you'll be welcome. Got that?"

"Yes, I understand," I replied. "Very well," he nodded. Then he pounded twice with his fist on the gate. "Open up!" he called, and stepped to the side along with his companion. The gates started to swing open, and I smiled to the guards before stepping through. At last, I had made it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Okay, so now we get to the meat of the story where the rest of the group finally comes into play. The roster as of this chapter is as follows:**

 **Elwing – Level 33 avariel (winged elf) swordsage/ warblade/ rogue/ master of 9/eternal blade.**

 **Oak-Wroth- Level 26 human druid/ranger/paladin**

 **Luthien- Level 5 high elf fighter/wizard**

 **Fang- Level 5 human rogue/soulknife variant**

 **Xean- Level 5 drow ninja**

 **Keep in mind that we'd just started playing recently and were between 2** **nd** **edition AD &D and 3.5 edition rules at the time, as well as experimenting with homebrew. The level disparity is because my cousin and I had been playing for a few weeks beforehand, and hadn't made new characters yet. Enjoy guys **

**Chapter 2: The First Few Days**

High Tower was different from anything I'd ever seen before. People were still bustling around even though night had fallen, which was uncommon for races that require eight hours of sleep at night. Though the majority of the crowd was human, I saw elves, dwarves, gnomes, and halflings as well. The sheer variety was astonishing. From what I could see, the town consisted of a main road which was paved with cobblestone, with a town square further ahead. To the left and right were small homes where families surely resided; the farmers and lower-class workers of High Tower. Businesses lined the main road, and the telltale décor and statuary that my elf eyes picked out in the square implied temples and high-class merchants would be found there. A stone wall with an iron gate separated the town square from what lay beyond it, likely a manor housing the local lord and other wealthy citizens. A stone tower loomed on the other side of the wall; I assumed this to be the wizard's tower.

"Marvelous," I said quietly to myself, grinning ear-to-ear. High Tower looked to be more than I'd imagined. Surely I could find work here and excitement in spades. With a spring in my step I set off down the street, joining the thronging crowd. Most of the business seemed to be being conducted in a two story shop with its doors thrown wide open. The sign read "General Goods" in Common; I'd need to stop by there and sell some of my acquired loot. A brawny blacksmith slightly further down on the left-hand side was busy hammering glowing iron while a gaggle of men surrounded him asking questions and requesting orders; the man looked quite flustered. But the most striking building on the street was just across from the blacksmith's shop, halfway between the main gate and the town square.

It was a huge three story building made of fine, dark timbers. Windows were placed strategically around the walls, displaying a large tavern on the first floor and a plethora of rooms on the top two. But by far the most striking feature of the place was its roof: it was also made of wood, but carved and painted in the shape of a massive red dragon. The wyrm's wings projected up into the air slightly, it's tail curled up upon the roof, but the carving's head hung down over the front door, mouth agape and shining with flickering fires, as if it meant to bathe any who walked through the door in its angry breath.

Just then a dwarf staggered through the door, clearly drunk and appearing to be heading home for the night. As he walked beneath the dragon's open maw I stepped forward quickly and raised my hand, almost shouting at him to run. But he simply continued on his merry way as if nothing was amiss, and I realized I'd allowed myself to be tricked briefly by the realism of the carving. It truly was a masterpiece, and exceptionally lifelike as far as my knowledge went. I shook myself and my rational mind reasserted itself. A quick dweomer revealed the fire within the dragon's mouth to be a simple _continual flame_ spell; nothing but a heatless light that would never go out unless dispelled. I sighed as I noticed the sign hanging over the door: **The Red Dragon Inn.** This was my destination. Shaking off my feelings of foolishness, I strode purposefully up to the door and pointedly ignored the dragon carving.

Two things were apparent to me the moment I stepped through the door: the first was that the Red Dragon Inn was rowdy, loud, and yet somehow quaint at the same time. The second was that High Tower was a place that had very clearly seen its share of adventurers. Most of the Inn's customers appeared to be large, burly farmhands and other workers of similar bent. But sprinkled among them were others of my ilk: adventurers; people who were clearly capable of handling themselves, and used to traveling and combat. A man in chainmail sat in a corner beside a dwarf clad in full plate armor; both had weapons and shields sitting within easy reach. A halfling in leather gear sat playing cards with a group of laborers, a bandolier of daggers strapped across his chest. A few more adventurers sat scattered about the room.

Feeling secure in good company due to the presence of wanderers like myself, I stepped over to a stool at the bar and slid onto it. The barkeep noticed me and made his way over. He was a thin man with dark hair that was graying at the temples, a stained apron over his clothes, which were simple but clean, and a copper band on the third finger of his left hand. Apparently he subscribed to that peculiar human custom of marriage.

"My name is Thomas," he said in a deep, calm voice. "What can I get you?"

"A glass of elven wine and a bed for the night," I answered with a smile. He grinned and replied, "Coming right up. May I ask your name miss?" He started filling a wine glass with liquid from a finely crafted bottle as he finished speaking. "Luthien Amil," I supplied, taking the glass and sipping from it. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance," he responded. "Three silver for the wine, five for the room, eight total if you please."

"Thank you," I said, fishing the coins out of my purse and handing them to him. He nodded and walked away to tend to other customers. I sat and drank my wine while glancing around at the other patrons. It seemed I'd found a very interesting place to stay for the time being. At that point a young woman walked around behind the bar and stood across from me, looking at me. She had a similar jawline and eye shape as Thomas the bartender, as well as his dark hair. Hers however was long and wavy, and not yet graying. The clothes she wore were similar to her fathers. She was what men would consider shapely and beautiful, and smiled at me with a gleam in her eyes. "Hi," she said brightly, "I'm Prue.

"Good evening Prue. My name is Luthien. You have a lovely name, young lady." The girl's smile went up a few candelas. "What brings you to High Tower?" she asked, leaning forward on the bar eagerly. "Wanderlust, adventure, and the company of other races," I answered smoothly. "My home is mostly elves; I had hardly gotten to meet other humanoids before I left."

"Oh, it sounds so exciting," she sighed. Her eyes sparkled mischievously as she spied my weapon holstered on my leg. "What kind of blade is that?" I rested my hand on the pommel of the weapon and explained, "This is my aara. It is a whipsword; a thin chain connects sections of blade, giving it reach and flexibility for one trained in its use. Unfortunately for my mother, I found longswords unbearably dull." A grin crossed my face as I thought of my mother.

We both started as a grunt sounded from the side; Thomas was giving Prue a rather pointed look, though a wry smile graced his lips. _Back to work, dear,_ his eyes said. Prue flushed slightly and ducked her head in embarrassment. She recovered momentarily and excused herself saying, "I'm sorry, I should get back to work. We'll talk more later?"

"That sounds good to me," I responded kindly, and she took her leave. I sat there after she left, observing the bar's patrons once again and sipping my wine. After a time I waved Thomas over and ordered a meal; he returned with a thick, delicious stew of rabbit, potatoes, carrots, and onions, along with sundry spices. It was excellent, and when I told him so he was visibly pleased with himself; after all, elves are renowned for having hard-to-please palettes. The only other social interaction I engaged in that night occurred when a drunken farmhand bumped into me as he retrieved his ale from the bar. He stumbled over his own feet as he turned and fell against my shoulder before regaining his balance. "S'rry miss," he slurred, waving his hand to placate me. "Was me own fault, that."

I waved my own hand in response to alleviate his concern; my mood was not upset by the encounter. "That's quite alright," I answered, "but you might want to consider getting a good night's sleep soon." He nodded gravely, apparently taking my words to heart. "Right you are miss, I've a field to plow tomorrow." He raised his mug and said, "Me last one o' the night this is, and a good night to you." He bowed grandly and almost fell once more, then smiled and shuffled back to the table with his friends. I nodded back to him, well aware that he was likely even then telling his friends of the fine elven lady at the bar whom he had bumped into.

Eventually the hour grew late, and I asked Thomas to show me my room. He left Prue tending bar and snatched a key from beneath the bar. I followed him up the stairs in the corner, and then up another flight onto the third floor. The rooms appeared to be larger than those on the second floor; the stairs emerged into a small open area between rooms with a small iron stove in the middle. Seemingly, it would help keep the upper level warm on cold nights and in winter.

Thomas led me to fine room, with a window that afforded me a view of the night sky. The room was lit by a candle on the bedside table and an oil lantern hanging from the wall beside the door. A wardrobe was present as well. Thomas proffered the room key, which I took, and bade me to enjoy my stay at the Red Dragon Inn. I smiled at him and expressed my thanks, and we said goodnight. He left the room and shut the door politely behind him. I sighed and settled in, stowing my belongings and changing into my nightclothes. Then I extinguished the lights, locked the door, and enacted an _alarm_ upon the room until morning. With all that done, I finally lay back on the bed and entered Reverie.

I looked for work in High Tower for three days. The first day I readied myself before even most farmers were awake, and set out with only a few minor spells prepared so that I could keep some of my power reserved in case a specific spell was needed later. Most of my belongings stayed locked in my room at the Inn, which I paid for a week's stay in. Thomas was the first person I asked about work, and he directed me to a board with numerous bulletins and notices posted to it, which was erected near the town square. Old notices cluttered the board, and nothing which fit my skillset was in evidence. I cleared rats out of the basement of the general store by causing miniature whirlwinds to chase them from their holes and sending them out beyond the wall to forage for food. That job earned me a handful of silver and a single gold piece.

The local wizard's tower was inauspicious, and of the two spellcasters present, neither needed an apprentice. Or even any rare ingredients for spell components. They were both humans of mature age, but neither seemed in command of magic that was much more advanced than my own. The local lord was not currently admitting visitors, but the gate guard told me very pointedly that they did not need adventurers at the present time for any kind of work. I returned to the Inn that night rather disheartened, but still hopeful that I would find something worthy of my talents here.

The second day was not much better. I advised the local apothecary on the condition of some of her plants, which were native to the conditions of the Feywild. She paid me in copper and silver, and sent me on my way with thanks. I spent dweomers repairing tools for the blacksmith, and aided an older human couple who lived near the wall in planting and weeding their garden. All were thankful for my services, but none provided me with any sense of excitement.

That night I indulged in another glass of wine, and Thomas and Prue consoled me with the fact that if I kept at it, I'd soon make a sterling reputation amongst the townsfolk. Most adventurers, they said, were too involved with themselves and their journeys to help the poor townsfolk with such mundane tasks as I had been performing. It made me feel somewhat better, but the prospect of becoming the local errand-girl was no more inviting than it had seemed that morning. My landlords offered their sympathies, but could only shrug as to a solution.

The third day I spent in High Tower marked a turning point for me in that I felt more frustrated than I had since leaving Styrewood. My encounters with danger along the road, while intense and potentially harmful, were preferable in every way to stagnation and boredom. No work was mine to be had that day, but I finally took the time to sell the loot I'd recovered from the orcs I'd killed. I reveled at the opportunity to explain to the shopkeeper and his patrons how I'd come across the goods, but alas, I am no bard. The story kept them enrapt for the duration of it, but not long after; they had heard similar stories before.

I returned to the Red Dragon Inn that night laconic and detached. Thomas saw the expression on my face when I sat in my customary barstool, and immediately had Prue bring me a slightly stronger glass of wine than my usual. A bowl of stew and a plate of bread and cheese followed, and Thomas tended the bar alone in order to allow me time to relate the events of the day to Prue as I ate. She patted my arm with a look of consternation on her face; it made me happy briefly that at least I'd managed to find a friend. I inquired of her if she had a night to herself soon, that we might spend more quality time together. Thomas sent her back to me with the glad tidings that he would bring in the son of the local farrier to tend bar with him on a night of our choosing. Apparently this was something he'd done for Prue before in order for her to spend some of her evenings as she wished to. With that though, she had to return to her duties, as the evening crowds were beginning to fill in and her father needed help. I thanked the both of them profusely for their kindness and their friendship, and returned to nursing my drink and finishing my meal with a light heart.

Suddenly there was a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see an elf standing behind me, his hand raised slightly. He had aquiline features and long, silver hair with a single warrior's braid beside his left eye. A feather that slowly shifted between all the colors of the rainbow was braided into it. He wore mithral chain armor with bird and wing motifs etched into the solid plates; the clothes beneath were azure blue. He bore a quiver on his hip, filled with javelins, as well as a ring on each hand, an amulet, a circlet on his brow, and fine leather boots. But his most striking feature were the large, light grey wings which he kept folded behind his back.

I gasped slightly as I realized his nature: he was an avariel, a reclusive race of elves that live in secluded mountains and forests around the world. He drew many eyes around the Inn, but he must have been known there, since most of the patrons didn't stare overly long. I only realized that he was speaking to me when he waved his hand briefly in front of my face to attract my attention.

"Miss? Excuse me, are you alright?" His voice was smooth and well-mannered, and he spoke in even tones. I took a breath and answered, "Yes. I'm alright, you just startled me. I'm new to this town, not many speak to me here." I kept my voice from quivering, and spoke plainly. Here was an adventurer like me, but clearly with much more experience. I wanted to make a good first impression. He smiled kindly, and I had the sense that he knew what I was thinking. He bowed slightly and introduced himself. "My name," he intoned, "is Elwing Marathvilya. Might I enquire as to yours?"

I responded evenly and kindly, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Elwing. My name is Luthien Amil." He grinned at that and replied, "'Mother'. A fine surname."

"Especially when you have a mother as fine as mine, 'Bright Sky,'" I responded slyly. He laughed at that, and I did as well. Once he'd finished laughing however he grew very serious, and I became slightly nervous. "The reason I introduced myself to you," he began, "is because I sensed an aura of magic about you, and I noticed your weapon." He glanced at my aara before asking, "Might you be an adventurer, Miss Luthien?"

I smiled serenely at Elwing and answered wryly, "If you call traveling from Wrenloft to here through Lunas an adventure, then yes, you could say that I'm an adventurer. And you can call me Luthien," I added. He nodded at me and repeated, "Luthien," in confirmation before nodding once more and refocusing. "You are on your life's journey then, Luthien? And only recently set out?" He asked with a barely concealed hint of excitement in his voice, which intrigued me. "Indeed," I answered, "why do you ask?"

Elwing leaned on the bar beside me and gave me a somewhat smug look. "How would you like a taste of _real_ adventure?" He inquired grandly. I smirked back and answered coyly, "What does _real_ adventure taste like?" The avariel stared at me, stricken for a second. Then he squinted at me for a moment before erupting in gales of raucous laughter. Most of the bar turned to stare at him and myself by extension. I soaked it in; they would have to settle for being jealous of my wit.

He mastered himself after nearly a minute, and as he was steadying his breathing I asked him, "If I agree to accompany you on this adventure of yours, will you be able to contain yourself?" I smiled wryly as I spoke. He eyed me archly for a moment before smiling once more and replying, "Luthien, I believe we are going to get along quite well." He offered me his arm and announced, "Now please, come and meet the rest of our motley group."

I took his arm and allowed him to lead me towards the wall opposite the bar. I'd never sat at a table before, but the room was covered in tables both round and square and long rectangular tables surrounded the others, framing the room beneath the overhanging balcony of the second floor. Elwing brought me over to the centermost table against the side wall, where three others sat muttering over mugs of various beverages. One was a human, wearing hunter's leathers and hide armor beneath a forest green robe. A scimitar and a hatchet were sheathed in his belt, and a staff of oak carved with runes and sigils leaned against his seat. He was tanned, extremely well-muscled, and his brown hair and beard were slightly overgrown. His face was what you might call "ruggedly handsome."

The second was also human, but the leathers he wore were tighter-fitting, darker, and well-oiled. He wore a short brown traveling cloak with the hood up, and carried no visible weapons. The man had short black hair and stubble, a fair complexion, and had dark, beady eyes that constantly darted around, keeping track of everything. A sense of quiet danger hung about him.

The last member of the company made me stop and stare in confusion, fear, and hatred. He was an elf like me, but with stark white hair, bright red eyes, and obsidian-black skin. He was a drow or dark elf. Long ago his kind had been seduced by a demon lord turned dark goddess named Lolth, the Demon Queen of Spiders. They had turned their back on the Seldarine, our gods, and waged war against my people. We drove them into the Underdark, the caverns and tunnels deep beneath the earth the spanned the world, and Corellon Larethian cursed them with their black skin other distinguishing features to mark them. This one seemed fairly calm for the moment. He wore his hair long and loose, and was clothed in black leather and a chain shirt of dark metal. Daggers and shuriken adorned his belt, as well as an odd sword, shaped like a tree somewhat with a short central blade, two "branches" sticking out from the front, and another from the back. It seemed made for throwing.

Since I'd already stopped in my tracks and halted Elwing along with me, I took my arm back and swiftly enacted the _detect magic_ spell. My vision was suddenly flooded with colors. The drow, first on my list, was carrying few magical items, and they carried fairly basic enchantments: his sword was enchanted to keep its edge and increase its sharpness, as well as return to his hand if thrown. A ring of unknown enchantment adorned his right ring finger. The shady human carried an enchanted ring and amulet, but still no weapons were revealed. Elwing and the strong, rugged human were two entirely different stories however.

The air around both was pulsing with a mix of powerful dweomers of various types, emanating from jewelry, weapons, armor, and clothing. A few things stuck out however: the man's staff emanated a great deal of natural divine magic; he must have been a powerful druid to carry such a staff. There was an amazingly strong cloud of coruscating rainbow colors surrounding Elwing's right hand, corresponding to a powerful weapon, but none was to be seen. The gloves he wore seemed to carry extradimensional storage spaces however; I wagered the weapon was concealed there. Lastly, and most confusingly, the feather braided into the avariel's hair was incandescent white in the center and flashed vibrantly with every color of the rainbow. The magic of it was divine, and overwhelmingly _present_ if not particularly powerful. It was very… interesting.

My escort's patience must have run out just then because he shook me slightly and whisper-shouted, "Luthien!" I started and stammered slightly, "Are you going to introduce me to your friends?" He looked at me gravely for a moment, staring directly into my eyes. "I will, yes. You were observing the magic we're all carrying, I presume?" I nodded my head, not surprised he'd caught on. He sighed gently and said softly, "I should have expected that. And I judge by your gasp a moment ago that you noticed the nature of our dark-skinned companion as well?" I raised an eyebrow at him and said archly, "Of course I did. Do you think my mother raised a fool?" The avariel chuckled slightly and allowed his wings, which I suddenly noticed were tensed up, to relax. "No, I do believe she raised a rather intelligent and gifted young elf. All I ask is that you set your prejudice aside for a moment, as I have asked him to do as well, and judge him by his actions rather than his race. Granted he does not care for our kind much either, but he's agreed to work with me, and will agree to work with you as well. Apparently," he shrugged, "the matriarchal society of his fellows did not agree with him."

"I'll do my best," I agreed reluctantly. He smiled at me and politely offered his arm to me again. I took it once more and he lead me the rest of the way to the table. We stopped behind the drow and the shady human; the druid was facing us and nodded to Elwing when he noticed us approaching. The other two turned to face us; the drow's eyes widened in slight surprise, but he quickly concealed the reaction behind a mask of frowning neutrality.

Elwing nodded to his companions and motioned to me. "Gentlemen," he intoned, "meet Luthien Amil. She's agreed to aid us in our little venture." He finished with a smile, before pointing to the rugged druid in the back. "This is Oak-Wroth," he said. "Fang," he continued, pointing to the shady human, "and Xean." The drow grimaced somewhat at the introduction before returning to his drink. My winged escort motioned for me to take a seat beside Fang, who nodded to me, before walking around to sit beside Oak-Wroth the druid.

The druid addressed the entire group once the avariel had taken his seat. "So," he began in a deep baritone, "you were all promised excitement and adventure. I think it's time you learned just what that will entail." The man gestured broadly with his hands as he spoke, and withdrew from his belt pouch a roll of parchment, clearly ancient and not very well-preserved. "This is a map detailing a route into the mountains, wherein lies a millennia-old temple that was buried beneath the earth. This temple is said to house the Throne of the Gods, a seat of incredible power, which allows those who sit upon it to make their wishes known to the pantheon at large, in the hopes that their wishes might be granted."

My eyes widened at the nature of this scheme. My first true adventure and the proposal was to hunt down a godly artifact! Excitement made me tremble slightly in my seat. The drow spoke out, "Surely this won't be easy? There must be traps, guardians, creatures that have found the place by accident and moved in. I hope you have contingencies in place to deal with those?" I frowned and reflected on the idea of danger in this temple. At that point Fang spoke up, "I've got traps handled."

"And anything he doesn't find," Elwing added, "I will." Both of them spoke with utter confidence. "What of other guardians left in place?" Xean asked again. "I presume you've all had some luck in combat with various creatures before coming here, correct?" Oak-Wroth fired back. I nodded, remembering the orcs and the owlbear. Fang grinned and answered, "Of course." Xean glared at the druid and responded tersely, "Yes, I have. But there may well be much stronger things to contend with in there than anything we've faced before. I'm signing on for treasure, not death."

Elwing smirked at the dark elf and replied, "I thought you signed on for excitement and adventure? If it eases your mind any, then rest assured that Oak-Wroth and I have tackled much tougher creatures than any you've faced before, including multiple breeds of dragon. We'll protect you." His smirk only grew as he spoke. The drow eyed him askance before sighing and acquiescing. "Fine," he huffed out, "but I want your guarantee that you will do your utmost to ensure my safety, as well as that of," he gestured to Fang and I, "these two." Elwing and Oak-Wroth both nodded, and Oak-Wroth replied, "We had planned on providing you all with a complement of wards before entry to begin with. Those you cannot provide yourselves of course." The druid grinned at me then, and I sensed he somehow knew some of my repertoire of spells. I smiled back uneasily, not sure what kind of spying or divinations he possessed.

"Now," the avariel spoke up, "if there are no more questions for the time being, we will adjourn for the night." Nobody spoke up. Personally, I was too excited by the idea of danger and adventure to come up with any good questions regarding the tomb or the trip. The other two seemed satisfied for the moment, though neither seemed to have quite the same excitement as I. Xean appeared uneasy still, and Fang seemed jadedly calm and collected. I put it out of my mind, said goodnight to the group, and went up to my room to prepare for the next day.

I dreamt deeply in Reverie that night, recalling grand tales of adventures and battles that I'd heard in the past. In the morning, I ate breakfast with Prue and told her about the job I'd picked up the night before. She was thrilled for me, but worried as well. I tried to smooth things over, and met with some success. The morning rolled on, and Elwing and Xean came down just after Prue left to serve more customers, Oak-Wroth and Fang not long after. We talked as they ate, going over the details of our preparations for the trip. Once they finished, it was time to get ready.

The five of us ventured to the tower of the local wizards and the two senior adventurers paid for a little shopping trip on behalf of Fang, Xean, and I. Our weapons were magically sharpened and made resistant to wear and damage. Fang still conspicuously lacked a weapon to be enchanted. We received a few minor items as well; I personally got an amulet that would increase the durability of my skin, keeping it from breaking. Elwing also gave me a pair of enchanted bracers that surrounded me in a durable forcefield, further protecting me from harm. A scroll with a _fly_ dweomer inscribed on it rounded out my gifts.

After leaving the tower (at which time the wizards seemed immensely glad to be rid of us) we stopped by the local temple of Pelor. Pelor is the god most worshipped by humans, a god of the sun, healing, strength, and protection. There we purchased a large amount of healing potions, which were divided among us as we saw fit. I spent the rest of the afternoon memorizing the _fly_ spell and inscribing it into my spellbook for future use. I prepared many more spells as well, almost reaching the limit of how many I can memorize in a day. Then I packed up a few other items that the boys purchased, including flasks of alchemists fire, torches, and tindertwigs. Apparently fire was something they felt was going to be necessary.

By four o'clock that afternoon we were all ready, in possession of more magical items than I'd ever thought to see in much of my lifetime. My backpack was set firmly across my shoulders, and my aara was secured to my thigh in its holster. We stood in the center of the town square of High Tower, and Oak-Wroth enacted a spell that would turn himself, as well as Fang and Xean, into misty apparitions capable of flying at high speeds. I cast the _fly_ dweomer on myself, and Elwing stretched his wings and leapt into the sky, zooming up over one hundred feet into the air. I followed, flexing my mental command over the spell upon me as I rose to join him, and three misty figures followed.

The avariel unrolled the tattered map, squinting at it to make out the directions. Then he turned west towards the mountains and called out, "Alright, let's go!" He flexed his mighty wings and flew off, myself and the three wind-walkers following close behind. The winged elf flew at the quickest speed my spell would allow, but I soon realized it was only a relaxed pace for him and the others. I suddenly felt somewhat self-conscious about insisting I fly under my own power. I shook my head a moment later; it was only intelligent that I provide my own means of transportation. Besides, the spell I'd wrought would last until long after we arrived at the sunken temple.

Our flight into the mountains was breathtaking, the scenery astounding and wonderful from on high. I determined that flight was now my favorite means of transportation; the feeling of it was amazingly liberating. It was entertaining watching Elwing twist and turn in the air, simply for the fun of it. I tried it myself, and delighted in the way my stomach fluttered as I pirouetted across the sky. After nearly an hour and a half in the air however, the keen-eyed avariel spotted the entrance to the temple and halted in midair.

The ghostly forms of Oak-Wroth, Fang, and Xean slowed to a stop beside us as Elwing unrolled the map once more and looked between it and the cliff face before us. A hole in the rock roughly eight feet tall and ten wide gaped at the sky like a screaming maw. It was about fifty feet up the sheer rock wall, and pitch black only ten feet inside, though my elf eyes saw somewhat further than most. Upon looking at the worn and yellowed map over Elwing's shoulder, I had to admit that the sketch in the corner was almost an exact likeness, the only difference being that the present cave entrance was somewhat more worn than the one in the drawing. "Well," Elwing said softly, "it looks like that's it."

The entire group drifted slowly down to the opening, and Elwing and I settled onto our feet. I took comfort knowing that anytime in the next few hours I could still leave the ground if I wished. The others floated inside and resumed their corporeal forms a moment later. At that point Oak-Wroth touched his staff and invoked a minor cantrip to make it shine with pure white light. The feather in Elwing's hair also started to shine brightly, the light tinted with bright rainbow hues. For my part, I touched the undying flower my mother had given me and made it shine with a bright, rosy light.

Elwing took the lead then and started off down the cave entrance. I walked slightly behind and beside him. Behind me walked Fang and Xean, with Oak-Wroth bringing up the rear. The walls and floor were rough and unworked, and gradually the cave sloped down until it seemed we were heading into the very bowels of the earth. The tunnel twisted and turned numerous times, but always continued on down. Other tunnels joined ours occasionally, and sometimes fissures in the walls revealed yet more caves. Elwing led us true with the map, though it seemed to be getting increasingly hard for him to make out. Finally however we came to a dead end wall of worked stone, and a stone door with sigils and runes scratched across it.

My stomach clenched upon seeing this obvious sign that we had reached our destination. The caves had been beginning to wear at my psyche; I had almost believed we'd never arrive. Now however my excitement returned, and with it my resolve. Fang stepped around me and carefully picked his way over to the door. After running his hands over nearly every inch of it he announced, "There don't appear to be any traps." At Elwing's urging he stepped back and allowed the avariel to double check. Once again, no traps were discovered. Fang looked smugly at Elwing, his face clearly saying, "I told you so."

Oak-Wroth tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to the door. "Can you detect any spells upon it?" I eyed him and motioned to Elwing. "Can't he detect magic without the need of a dweomer?" The avariel answered, "Yes. But my ability to sense magic isn't nearly as honed as your _detect magic_ spell. I can't determine the school of magic that the dweomers upon an object are from, for instance. And it takes me considerably more time."

"Also," Oak-Wroth added, "we want the three of you to be able to put your unique talents on display as well. This wouldn't be nearly as fun if we just held your hands throughout the whole thing, would it?" He chuckled into his beard, and I smiled at the druid. Then I gazed hard at the door and enacted the spell. After a few seconds, a strong aura of abjuration presented itself; a powerful divine spellcaster had placed a locking spell on the stone door in order to prevent anyone from opening it again. I relayed the information to the others and continued studying the door. Another faint energy signature was coming into focus, hidden within the weave of the other spell's wavelength. As Oak-Wroth prepared to cast a powerful dispelling dweomer on the door, I realized what the faint spell was. "Stop," I called out. "The door is trapped!" The others looked at me in confusion. "There is another spell layered onto the _divine lock._ It's an _earthquake._ It's rigged to make the ceiling collapse on our heads if the _lock_ is dispelled!"

Oak-Wroth ceased his spellcasting meditation immediately. Elwing unrolled the map once more in frustration, searching the page for some clue to unlocking the door. I sighed and gazed at the floor, certain that we had come so far only to fail. I didn't notice that Oak-Wroth had cast another spell until he shouted out, "Eureka! I've got it!" I looked up at him quickly. He was standing by the door, his eyes glowing faintly. "I utilized a spell that allows me to comprehend all of the world's languages. This door is inscribed with Ancient Enochian, which modern Celestial is derived from. It says that "to enter the Temple of the Gods and sit upon their Throne, speak the Words of the Faithful and let your soul be judged.'"

Fang spoke up, "Well, what are these "Words of the Faithful?'" Oak-Wroth sighed. "It doesn't say," the druid answered. Suddenly an idea sparked in my mind, and I snatched the map from Elwing. "Hey!" he exclaimed. "Luthien, what are you doing!?"

"Fixing the map," I retorted. And I cast a minor dweomer which was nearly second nature to me: _minor repair._ Suddenly the parchment of the map filled in and lightened in color until it looked brand new. And in the corner which had previously been torn off, a hasty scrawl was revealed I runes that resembled the ones inscribed into the door. I handed it to Oak-Wroth, who incanted a prayer to the god Obad-hai which would allow him to speak any language as well as read them. He strode proudly and firmly back to face the door, and spoke words in a language that filled me with thoughts of sweet things and precious dreams. The door's runes glowed with a pure white light, and the druid was engulfed within it. We called out, sure he had been destroyed by the magic of the door, somehow seen as impure in the eyes of the gods. But then the light disappeared as quickly as it had come, and the rugged human was standing there just as proudly as he had been a moment before. He turned to face us, a smile on his beaming face, and gestured to the door. It opened with a grinding rumble like the sound of the earth's bones, and the druid intoned, "Lady and gentlemen, I present you the Temple of the Throne of the Gods!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: This dungeon was one of the first I ever ran, and back then I knew very little of the world's lore compared to now. I've had to alter some things since to provide more continuity to the world, but it's been a fun process for the most part.**

 **Thanks to those who have reviewed for your kind words; it's nice to know that one's work is appreciated. Sorry for how long it took me to get this up.**

 **Chapter 3: First Dungeon**

Just as Oak-Wroth finished his announcement a scrabbling noise issued from the blackness behind him. I managed to pick out a small form rushing forward low to the ground before it leapt upon the druid. As the creature entered the light generated by our magic, I recognized it for what it was: a goblin, thin and starved-looking, trying to stick a crude dagger into Oak-Wroth's broad back. Before any of us could react to try and help him, the druid acted with incredible speed, dropping his staff. He then twisted around and ripped the goblin off of him with one large hand and threw it to the floor before drawing a hand-axe from his belt and burying it in the creature's chest. The goblin let out a faint gasp of air before succumbing to death.

More scrambling noises issued from within the chamber, and I saw more shadowy figures gathering in the doorway. "There are more of them!" I shouted to the others, drawing my aara in one fluid motion. "We know!" Xean yelled back. The drow's eyes were glowing bright red, indicating that he was utilizing his races natural darkvision to see further into the doorway. He drew his strange, tree-like short sword and stood ready. Beside him, Fang held out his hand, and a greatsword made from blazing red energy coalesced into existence from thin air. The rogue clenched the weapon in one hand and flourished it as if it weighed no more than a branch. Oak-Wroth ripped his axe free and stowed it in his belt before stepping aside from the doorway and retrieving his staff from the ground. Elwing stepped forward and tucked his wings behind him. As he walked, a katana made from some black metal appeared in his right hand, rainbow-colored sparks snapping up and down the blade. The weapon lacked a tsuba, or guard.

The goblins milling about in the entrance to the temple stared out at us, the light reflecting red off of their eyes. I saw fear there, but felt no remorse for the vile things. They chattered to each other momentarily before one of them decided to tempt fate, and rushed towards us suddenly. I acted as soon as it cleared the door; yelling "Duck!" to Elwing I swung my whip sword in a flash of steel. The avariel reacted with uncanny speed, dropping to the floor in one smooth motion. My blade flickered through the air and separated the first goblins head from its shoulders just as its fellows moved to follow it.

The others acted almost simultaneously then as the three remaining goblins cleared the door at a sprint. Elwing popped up from the ground faster than blinking and clove one of them in two. Red light flashed from his blade, setting the corpse on fire. Xean flung his sword ferociously, and one of its branches sank into the middle goblin's forehead with a sickening thud. Fang acted as well, rolling forward across the floor and striking like a snake, stabbing his greatsword clean through the chest of our last remaining foe.

We all took a moment to breathe a sigh of relief. Though they were only goblins, they'd taken us by surprise. It wouldn't do to let ourselves get caught flat-footed again. I said as much to the others, and Oak-Wroth looked sheepish. "I should have suspected that something might have taken up residence in this place. Monsters of all sorts live underground. If goblins got in here, it's more than likely that others have as well. We'll have to be extra careful." We all nodded in agreement. With our first scare out of the way, we formed a marching order. Elwing and Fang would go first, since the hallway beyond the door was wide enough for two people to walk abreast. Xean and I would walk behind them, and Oak-Wroth would guard our backs against anything creeping up behind us. The drow and I glanced at each other briefly; neither of us cared for the other's company.

Before entering the doorway we checked the bodies of the goblins for anything useful and turned up a smattering of copper and silver coins, which we placed in a pouch to be divided later. With that done, we pressed on into the temple. The walls were made of carven stone, cleaner and neater than the unworked caves we'd been slogging through in order to get here. Empty torch brackets lined the walls every ten feet or so, and I imagined what the place must have looked like when it had been populated by priests and clerics.

We walked slowly down the hallway for roughly fifty feet, Fang and Elwing keeping an eye out for traps and ambushes along the way. The hallway opened up to a large room after those fifty feet. Before we could enter it however, Fang held up a hand and made a shushing noise. He then knelt to the ground and started feeling around in front of him with both hands, having dismissed his weapon. After a few seconds he grunted and motioned us all forward. As we looked, he placed his fingers delicately on a thin wire, pulled taught between the walls roughly four inches off the ground. Following the tripwire revealed a small hole in the wall, and after manifesting his red light again into a thin dagger and digging into the hole, the rogue proudly presented us with a small dart. The tip was coated in a brown, dried out substance which was presumably poison that had dried up over the long centuries without being changed.

"The former inhabitants must have set this before abandoning the temple," Fang explained. "Likely the goblins had someone sharp enough to notice it, and they left it here to dissuade anyone who somehow opened the door." I clapped a hand on his shoulder and said, "Good thing we have you along then." He smiled faintly and tucked the dart into pouch on his belt. "Good work," Elwing said softly. "Now, let's keep moving."

The room ahead was surprisingly open after the narrow tunnels. The contents of the room were equally surprising. A few sacks and ragged bedrolls were arranged around the softly glowing embers of a campfire. Unfortunately, everything was strewn about haphazardly, and the cause was revealed when our lights fully illuminated the room. A large monstrous spider and an equally large flesh-eating beetle were in the far corner of the room, struggling and fighting over the corpse of another goblin. They had iron collars around their necks, from which lengths of chain dangled. As we brought our lights into the room, they stopped fighting each other and turned abruptly to face us. Then, after chattering for a brief second in confusion and pain at the sudden illumination, they charged at their new source of fresh meat: us.

Elwing charged forward, his wings spreading open to catch the stagnant air in the room. I expected him to dispatch the spider as he charged it. Instead, he simply leapt into the air and landed with both feet planted squarely in the creature's face. Then he pushed off, shoving the beast off balance and slamming it into the floor. He hovered in the air then, watching the proceedings with keen eyes. Fang was next into the room, and the beetle's first target. "What are you doing!?" the rogue yelled at the avariel. He manifested his glowing greatsword once again and met the beetle's mandibles with the flat of the blade, struggling to keep it from clamping its jaws around his head.

I darted in to the side of the beetle and snapped my aara at it. The blow struck its head, separating one of its pincers and causing it to recoil in pain, shrieking. Fang took the opportunity to roll to the other side, out of the beetle's reach. I looked back for Xean and Oak-Wroth, but only saw the druid. The drow was nowhere to be found. "Bloody hell!" I cursed to myself. "Of all the times for that coward to run away!"

Suddenly I heard the drow's voice from further inside the room. "Hey," it said, "I heard that!" I looked about in confusion, but couldn't locate where it was coming from. Suddenly the spider, which had been struggling back to its feet, screeched in agony. I whipped my head around to witness Xean's invisible form phasing back into visibility. His weapon was buried up to the hilt in the spider's abdomen, and as I watched he twisted and ripped it from the wound. The spider fell to the floor, and its cries were silenced by another blow directly to its brain. The drow yanked his sword free a second time and stalked back towards us angrily. "I HATE spiders," he grumbled venomously.

I turned my attention back to the beetle, which was thrashing about trying to disembowel Fang with its one remaining pincer. He was fending off its blows, but couldn't retaliate due to the fierceness of its attack. "A little help here, please!?" Xean and I glanced at each other and started forward, but as we did Oak-Wroth stepped fully into the room. His presence was there in a way that I had never felt before. His face was calm, but his eyes held unspeakable rage. His voice thundered as he cried out, "Hey ugly!" The beetle ceased its thrashing and turned to face the advancing druid. An aura of green light shone from the elaborate carvings in his staff, and he slammed it into the stone floor releasing a crack like the explosion of a _fireball._ Suddenly a spike of stone as big around as a giant's fist sprang from the ground beneath the beetle and impaled it directly through the center of mass. It squirmed for a brief moment before expiring quietly and coming to rest against the stalagmite.

Fang let out a massive sigh of relief and planted his great glowing blade in the stone floor before kneeling to take a breather. "Thanks," he said breathlessly looking up at Oak-Wroth, "that was a close one." The burly druid patted his shoulder and said, "No problem." At that moment a hand grabbed my shoulder, and I stiffened before realizing who it must be. I looked over my shoulder to see Elwing standing there, wings folded and sword gone. I breathed out and relaxed my muscles. "Oh thank the gods it's just you," I sighed. Xean snorted slightly and said, "Oh yes, it's just the one who barely struck a blow during the entire fight." The scorn in his voice was almost palpable.

The avariel stared the drow down, blue eyes and red eyes boring into each other. "Part of the purpose of this venture," Elwing said through gritted teeth, "was for us to allow the three of you to test yourselves and grow in experience, unless you needed our help." He looked at Oak-Wroth significantly and said, "Which _someone_ forgot it seems." The druid looked sheepish once again and replied, "Fang was in trouble. I helped. This place is more dangerous than we figured it was going to be, Elwing. We're going to have to do more work here than we thought. Besides," he grinned, "you know I can't resist a fight." Fang's greatsword winked out of existence at that and he stood quickly. "Good thing you stepped in," he said to the man, "or I'd likely have been wounded by the time Luthien and Xean could help me." Elwing looked between the two and sighed, shaking his head. "Very well. Full effort then, and full partnership." The avariel looked at the rest of us and said, "Well, let's check the room for anything useful and be on our way."

We rummaged through the sacks that surrounded the goblin's former campfire, finding smatterings of coins, as well as two chunks of black metallic rock. The men let out a breath when we uncovered them, and even I recognized what they were from my studies: chunks of adamantine ore. Extremely dense and hard metal harvested from fallen meteorites was collected by those who desired it for forging weapons, armor, walls, etc. This metal was black-hued, and extremely valuable. Only smiths who were masters of their craft were allowed to work with it.

All of the loot was placed into a magical bag of holding to be divided later, though I glimpsed Fang pocketing a glinting gold piece out of the corner of my eye. He noticed me looking, and whispered to me "First round's on me when we get back." I nodded conspiratorially to him with a smirk, and he grinned back before turning towards the hallway leading further in. "Suppose I'd best earn my cut well from here on out," he grunted. "I'll take point and search for traps. You all just be ready to cover me if I shout, alright?"

"I can do you one better," Xean murmured to him, stepping up beside the rogue. "My kind are naturally stealthy, and I've been trained extensively for such as well. I shall accompany you and watch out for you while you seek out traps. You are right. We'd best earn our keep from here on out." I eyed the drow distrustfully for a moment before reaching the conclusion that I was going to have to learn to work with him if I expected to survive this endeavor. I sighed, made a gesture with one hand and muttered arcane words under my breath. Xean stiffened in front of me, since he simply heard me casting a spell behind his back. I rolled my eyes as a surge of power left me, cocooning Fang in a protective barrier of force.

Fang turned back and looked at me warily. I shrugged at him and said, "I thought some extra protection might be in order just in case you accidentally activate a trap." He nodded to me again, gratefully this time, and crouched low before padding silently into the dark hallway. Xean followed shortly after, his red eyes burning slightly before the gloom hid them from view. I stepped closer to Elwing and Oak-Wroth, the light from the avariel's feather and the druid's staff comforting to me.

Elwing looked at me and asked, " _Mage armor_?" I nodded silently, anxiously watching the darkness. "I can't hear them anymore," Oak-Wroth intoned. "Nor I," Elwing responded. "I couldn't to begin with," I supplied. "How were you able to?"

"We've had a lot of practice," the avariel said by way of explanation. "It'd be somewhat odd if we couldn't hear the footsteps of roguish types better than you by now." I shrugged in modest acquiescence and prepared myself for whatever might be about to happen. A minute ticked by, then two. The three of us were silent, listening with all our might in case we needed to rush to the rescue of our intrepid scouts. Another minute and there was still nothing.

I was just about to ask the two more seasoned adventurers if we should follow Fang and Xean when the rogue crept out of the shadowy hallway and into the light. The drow followed a moment later, his odd, tree-shaped blade wet with black ichor. "Goblins," he stated simply. "Not many however, and they're no longer a threat."

"Indeed," Fang agreed. "But there are a couple of interesting details you should know. First off there are two paths, one curving left and one curving right. To the left are stairs leading deeper into the temple, a complex of rooms to the right. Some of them appear to have been bedchambers, as well as a dining hall, and a pair of studies. The door to another room appears to have been sealed by magic I cannot bypass, and one is harboring a sleeping troll. Also, there were a few traps, but they appear to have been rigged by the goblins, and they were shoddy at best. Needles tied to door locks and such."

We looked at the pair, impressed at their stealth and prowess. Elwing rallied quickly and queried, "Troll? You're sure?"

"No mistaking that stench," Xean said smugly. "We're going to need fire." He darted his eyes towards Oak-Wroth. "Druid?"

"Oh I have fire in spades," the big man responded with a smirk. "So does Elwing. You three can be on support duty for the troll, and we'll crack that door, unless our young wizardess is capable of that feat." I nodded and responded, "I might be able to open it." Everyone grinned to each other, our spirits high. "Very well," I said confidently, "let's do this."

Fang and Xean led us down the hallway, and there were indeed two branching paths. We took the right one, and stepped quietly up to the room that they said contained a troll. I smelled it before we even got close. It was so foul I nearly gagged, smelling of rotten meat and things best left in a sewer. The druid and the avariel motioned for the rest of us to stand back as they took up positions on either side of the door. Then with seemingly no planning or prompting the two seasoned adventurers flew into motion.

Oak-Wroth slammed his fist against the door with strength far exceeding normal men, and a fire kindled in his other hand as the door exploded inward, falling off of its hinges and splintering. Dust kicked up obscuring our vision, and suddenly I could see the troll in the light of my hairpin. It was crouched in the corner when the door was shattered; eating what looked suspiciously like a goblin's leg. When Oak-Wroth knocked the door down it rose after a moment of surprise, dropping the leg and roaring at us, flexing its talons. It never got the chance to use them.

Suddenly Elwing was in front of us, a look of intense concentration on his face as he spun in a carefully practiced maneuver, his gleaming black sword whistling. The slashed the air in front of him and a thin wave of condensed fire lashed out from his blade and struck the troll across its midsection cutting it in two. Both halves hit the ground and sizzled as they tried to heal but found themselves unable to regenerate due to the burns. The beast roared in pain and fury; clearly it wanted us to pay. It launched itself forward towards Elwing with astounding power and for a moment I thought it would latch onto him and tear his head from his shoulders. Instead Oak-Wroth hurled the ball of fire he'd produced in his palm at the creature, hitting it squarely in the face. It immediately lost all thought of attack as its head was engulfed in flames. It succumbed to death after only a few brief seconds of screaming and flailing about.

I gaped in slack-jawed amazement. That was a troll, a _troll_ , one of the most feared creatures in the land due to its ability to regenerate from wounds. The two adventurers had killed it in a matter of mere seconds, as if it were nothing. Either of them would have easily been a match for it, I felt. "That was incredible," I muttered to myself. Oak-Wroth must've heard me, because he smiled at me and said, "Thanks. It's what we do." I felt myself blushing slightly at my obvious inexperience and wished I hadn't spoken. Then I looked over at my other two compatriots and saw similar expressions of wonder on their faces, and knew I was not the only one.

Elwing stepped out of the room a moment later with a few small sacks that jingled with coins. "Thing had more than a few victim's belongings," he said angrily, "but at least we can use this." He stuffed the sacks into a bag of holding to be split later, then turned to me with his calm demeanor somewhat restored. "I believe you said you could get us through a magically locked door?" I nodded and said," Mhm." Fang and Xean collected their jaws from the floor and we all trooped back down the hall to where the sealed door was. I studied it with _detect magic_ before deciding it was safe to open. Then I cast the _knock_ spell on it, muttering a word and knocking three times on the door. It slid open easily and without a hitch.

The room was dusty inside and contained the skeletons (not animated fortunately) of two humanoids. I couldn't tell what race they were, but Oak-Wroth simply glanced at them and muttered, "Human." The remains of what could have been robes sat in a moldy pile around each skeleton, and they were collapsed upon a group of large sacks that clinked merrily at us when we moved them, as if happy to finally be found after all the time in the dark. Fang eagerly snatched one and opened it up, his face beaming when he beheld its contents. He then held it out to me to show me what was inside, and I gasped. The bag was filled entirely with gold coins, precious stones, and fist-sized chunks of some odd black metal. "What's that?" I asked, pointing to the chunks. The rogue laughed at me and said, "That is adamantine ore, strong, valuable metal from the hearts of meteors and such! It's incredibly rare, and some of the most legendary of weapons are forged from it!" Elwing glanced inside the bag before holding out his hand and allowing his katana to materialize in a flash of strobing rainbow colors. I realized it was made of adamantine itself. "Not so rare as you might think," the avariel smirked, "but rare enough to be worth a lot of gold." He tuned to look at Xean and Oak-Wroth, who were checking the remaining bags. The druid looked to Elwing and nodded, "All similar contents. They must have come here after the place was sealed in order to collect its remaining riches, but locked themselves in here when something ambushed them. Poor bastards probably starved to death."

I nodded to myself, thinking he was likely correct and pitying the poor souls whose bones lay before us. A flash of anger surged through me for a moment as I considered their fate, and I suddenly wished that there were more goblins about for me to kill, or even more vermin; something to pay for these adventurers' deaths. After a moment I shook myself and regained my composure, hefting a sack of wealth and depositing it into the waiting bag of holding.

"From here," Oak-Wroth stated," we should be set to head downstairs. Fang and Xean lead, and keep your eyes peeled. Let us know if anything turns up that's too far outside your area of expertise, and warn us of anything up ahead we should know about." The large man turned to see both of our scouts smirking at him, and he smiled wide in return. The druid rubbed his neck sheepishly and muttered, "Right. You don't tell me how to commune with nature, I won't teach you how to scout. Fair enough."

I smirked a little myself at the antics of these men, who had only just met the previous day. Camaraderie breeds quickly in the depths of the earth, when surrounded by monsters. I allowed my flowers' brightness to increase, its rosy light matching the brightness of Elwing's feather and Oak-Wroth's staff. Fang and Xean turned towards the rooms exit and left, crouching as they went. Their steps were silent, and when the rest of us left the two stealthy warriors had already disappeared in to the darkness of the tunnels. I thought I caught a glimpse of two red flashes, but couldn't be sure if it was Xean's eyes or a trick of mine.

Elwing led us down the broken spiral staircase, his sword at the ready. We saw not a single trace of Fang and Xean, and the staircase wound down with hardly a trace of anything save for crumbled stone and the occasional bone. After what seemed like at least five minutes of walking we came to a new hallway. The air was colder at that depth, and I shivered slightly before attuning myself to the cold. Oak-Wroth coughed slightly and held out a handful of flame towards me, motioning for me to warm myself. I smiled politely and shook my head. "I'm fine, but thank you. Save your fire for any goblins we might encounter soon." The druid nodded to me and murmured, "That I will," with a wry smile. Elwing dropped a hand on each of our shoulders then, his wings closing slightly around us. "Let's keep moving," he said quietly. "We don't want those two getting too far ahead and running into trouble." The druid and I both nodded acquiescence and turned to follow him.

The hallway continued straight, and every dozen feet or so another would loom on either side. Markings were drawn in the dirt by each one. The language was unfamiliar to me, but Elwing immediately looked down at it, clearly recognizing and reading it. "What is it?" I asked him. He smirked and said," Those cheeky bastards. It's Thieves Cant." I looked at him blankly and he let out a small chuckle. "A language of symbols and signs all dedicated to denoting treasure, guards, traps, and other things of that nature," he explained as I nodded in understanding. "Well," Oak-Wroth said leaning in," what does it say?" The avariel pointed out individual symbols and stated their meanings plainly. "Two rooms. No loot. No guards. Dead end."

We continued on, stopping at each hallway and examining the signs. Several times we found signs that read things like "two guards, dead" or "found loot, stashed." We checked on the veracity of the first three, but after finding fresh goblin corpses and bags of coins tucked behind doors, we started to simply trust the signs. The main hallway lead us around, and down more stairs as well, though none as longs as the spiral stairway in the beginning. We spoke little, but did discuss the nature of the ruins' design. The top floor, we decided, must have been the guard and guest quarters, meant to be a buffer between the temple and the outside world before the whole thing sank into the ground.

It was while we were discussing this that we finally were met again by Fang and Xean. Our intrepid scouts were leaning against the wall on either side of the hallway, near the end of another staircase when we found them. Both appeared quite calm, but something in their eyes betrayed the anxiety they were feeling. The two experienced adventurers beside me sensed it too. Elwing strode swiftly up to Xean and leaned down slightly to look him in the eyes. "What is it?" he asked urgently. Oak-Wroth stepped up as well, the light in his staff dimming. Elwing and I dimmed our lights as well without thinking about it. Xean looked at Fang, who nodded, and said quietly "Hydra. Seven heads, chained to the wall to act as a guardian. Standing near a thick stone door with sigils carved into it."

The avariel warrior looked at the three of us who had been hired the previous day, his eyes giving nothing away. Then he looked at his druid friend, and they could no longer hold their smiles in check. "Only seven heads?" the big man asked," and brown scales?" The drow nodded. I stared at the two in fascination. Did nothing faze them? Trolls, hydras, and unknown hordes of goblins held no danger or fear for them. I wondered to myself at that moment if anything ever could. The two shared a deep belly laugh at the thought of the monster in the next room, the sound rolling down the hallways and echoing from the stone. Moments later, their laugh was answered by a massive, grumbling roar, multiplied by the seven throats that bellowed it.

My two laughing companions grudgingly halted their giggles at the noise and glanced at the rest of us. Once the reverberations subsided, Elwing looked around at us and declared, "The hydra won't be a problem. Just keep your wits about you and you'll be fine." The druid started striding down the tunnel a moment later and ordered, "Present your blades my friends." I removed my aara from its holster and held the coiled ribbon of steel out to him, as did Xean with his oddly-shaped sword. Fang did not immediately summon his great sword, and the druid eyed him saying," Your weapon as well, Fang." The rogue manifested his glowing red weapon with a reluctant air and presented it for the man's inspection. Oak-Wroth simply paused for a moment, his stride becoming slower as he focused his energies. Then he uttered a brief prayer to nature and the forces of the Green under his breath, and my aara and Xean's blade were engulfed in flickering green flames. We both jumped ever so slightly, though the druid seemed not to notice. Thoughtfully, I looked over at Xean's weapon and gasped at what I saw. The red energy that comprised the weapon had turned bright green from the tip of the sword until halfway down the blade, and the heat of that green segment was unmistakable. Fang looked at the greatsword, seeming somewhat perturbed before shrugging and resting the flat of the blade on his shoulder, careful to avoid setting his cloak on fire.

Our party continued down the hallway, our lights glowing and shedding the darkness before us. My blade felt alive in my hand with the energy of the druid's spell. I looked at the others arrayed beside me and felt confident, powerful, and ready to fight. After one more staircase we reached a large doorway, bigger than all the rest we'd passed so far. It opened into a massive circular room, fully fifty feet around and even more than that in height. Standing at the far end of the room was the hydra; seven serpentine heads writhing like a living nest and hissing at us from the top of its huge lizard-like body. My confidence fluttered for a minute, but then Elwing slid beside me. The avariel's wing crept around my other side protectively, but he stared with undisguised glee at the beast before us. He was excited to face it; his face showed not even a single trace of worry. My resolve hardened and I muttered to him, "We attack from above while the others hit it at ground level?" The elf looked at me for a moment as if puzzled before recognition flashed in his eyes.

"Your flight spell is still running, then?" He remarked. "That's fortunate." I nodded and muttered a few short words while gesturing with my left hand. An invisible barrier of magical force congealed in the air in front of me, and I breathed a little easier. The hydras heads hissed at us still, lashing towards us like snakes. I sneered at the beast and lashed my blade out to the side, flame rippling along the weapon and flying from the tip as it snapped. With that, I rose into the air and sped towards the hydra, not waiting for the others, knowing they would follow. Fang called out "Luthien!" behind me but I ignored him. I flew up above the creature, towards the domed ceiling, and struck with my aara. The flaming whip-sword slashed a neat line through the shoulder of the beast, charring its scaly brown hide and preventing it from regenerating. Moments later a blast of intense green fire and divine light exploded out from beneath the hydra, scorching it sand causing it to shriek and flail its heads in pain. The smell of burning flesh filled the chamber as Oak-Wroth's _flame strike_ burned through the hydras scales to roast flesh.

One of the heads turned towards me in blind rage and struck out, but bounced off of the _shield_ dweomer in front of me. I skipped a few feet back as it lashed out again, but needn't have bothered. Before the creature's neck was even fully extended Fang exploded out of the shadows, his red energy-based greatsword forming in mid-swing, the green flames of Oak-Wroth's magic licking out from the edge. The massive weapon cut clean through the hydras neck, decapitating it and leaving a charred, ashy stump behind.

The hydra cried out again, more heads turning to face us. Suddenly another head collapsed like a felled tree as Xean's weapon flashed through the air, glittering as it spun. Then Elwing teleported from the doorway to stand behind the beast, and he focused for a moment with his black blade grasped firmly in hand. The avariel then spun on his heel and swung his sword in a wide backhand, a wave of searing red fire expanding out for over a dozen feet and lighting four of the remaining five heads up like tindertwigs. The flesh of the hydras heads melted like wax as its scales cracked and eyes popped from the heat. The four heads fell limp, dragging the ground at the beast's feet.

It roared in pain and sheer fury, turning quicker than any of us could have expected. Its final head struck out and tried to catch hold of the avariel's wing, but Elwing just smirked and smacked the creature's face with his wing as the feathers took on a metallic sheen. The hydra drew its head back with a sharp hiss, a line of blood on its cheek. Then Fang and I acted in concert, and as he strode forward to intercept the head with his sword, I unleashed a spell. A flash of light went off in the face of the creature and it closed its eyes against the pain, lashing out wildly with its fangs. Our Fang didn't give it a chance to recover. As the now dazed serpent struck a blow towards the rogue's general position, he slammed his glowing, eight inch wide blade through the front of its face all the way to the brain.

Instantly the beast stopped struggling and slumped down, Fang bearing its weight with a grunt of extreme effort. He then ripped the blade free from the hydras skull, severing the top half from the bottom and sending it flying towards the other side of the room. I descended to the floor once more and surveyed the destruction as the body of the hydra slowly settled and became still. Beneath it the stones of the floor were cracked and blackened by the force of the druid's magic, and flickering green embers still floated from the crater. Xean was behind Elwing, pulling his weapon from the wall where it had stuck after he threw it. Oak-Wroth stepped forward and clapped Fang on the shoulder as his blade flickered and vanished.

"So," the big man said, "you're a soulknife, yes?" Fang nodded, his dark eyes shimmering for a moment with baleful red light. Oak-Wroth grinned and said "Your mind blade is rather large. Most prefer a shorter weapon, but clearly it is quite effective." The rogue nodded at this assessment as the rest of us gathered around. "What is a soulknife exactly?" I asked. Fang shrugged and once again caused his weapon to appear. The green flame it had been enhanced with was gone now, and I noticed that the fire on my own weapon had died too.

"A soulknife is a person capable of manifesting a weapon of pure psychic energy," Fang explained calmly. "This," he said brandishing his greatsword in one hand, "is Wyvern." The great red blade then winked out of existence once more and Fang turned away from us, towards the massive stone doors which the hydra had been guarding. "Now that the introductions are out of the way," he said, "let's get in there and find that damn Throne."

"One last question," Xean interjected. The drow narrowed his eyes towards Elwing and demanded, "What are you exactly? What training have you received?"

"Why the sudden curiosity?" the avariel replied warily. "Because teleporting and throwing fire around is typically the domain of spellcasters, but you fight like a warrior and I've yet to see you perform any arcane gestures or speak any words when creating those effects." Xean continued, "Also, your techniques are foreign to me, and I've studied numerous fighting styles from various races and cultures. I wish to know who I am traveling with. So I ask you: what are you?"

Elwing groaned and looked down at the ground in mild frustration. He then lifted his gaze to meet Xean's and the drow seemed to flinch ever so slightly. I couldn't help but smile just a little bit. "I am what is colloquially known as a swordsage," Elwing began, "an adept in the martial disciplines. I have been trained in numerous secret styles of meditation and weapon techniques which can unlock supernatural powers and increased physical capabilities in their users. The teleportation effect you saw me use allows me to travel instantly through shadows, and I can access the heat of the desert through intense focus in order to conjure fire through my blade. I can also manipulate time, and perform strikes which are incredibly damaging but purely physical in nature. Any more questions?"

We took in the knowledge that the avariel swordsage had bestowed upon us. I recalled hearing tales of incredible warriors who could do similar things once before when I was young and listening to merchants gossiping in Wrenloft, but had never met one of the fabled martial adepts before now. I looked at Elwing with renewed respect, knowing the amount of discipline and dedication he must have to follow that path. It was no less strenuous and difficult than that of a wizard like me.

Xean frowned and appeared lost in thought at the revelation of Elwing's powers, but Fang just shrugged and said," Sounds pretty handy." The elven man just stood staring at the soulknife for a moment before grinning and clapping him on the shoulder. "That it is Fang. Thank you."

I shook myself slightly after a moment and got my thoughts in order before saying out loud, "Well it's nice to finally know more about you Elwing. I agree with Fang though, we should press on. The less time we spend down here the better."

"Couldn't agree more," Oak-Wroth said in his resonant baritone. "Let's find what we came here to find." I nodded and smiled at the druid before falling in beside him and Fang. We all walked on, skirting the hydra's corpse and moving to stand before the great double stone doors. Then I stood ready with the others while Oak-Wroth used his incredible strength to push the doors open wide. I gasped out loud when the contents of that final room were revealed to me.

Before us was a huge circular room with another domed roof nearly one hundred feet tall. The walls of the room were decorated with spiraled columns separating sections of wall made from a dark blue marble. No torch sconces adorned the walls, but a single crystal was suspended by a metal rod a few feet from the ceiling. It radiated bright clear light that was more than enough to illuminate the entire room. Despite the beautiful scenery, the contents of the room were more shocking than I could have ever expected.

Skeletons of various shapes and sizes were strewn about the room, many of them incomplete in one way or another. Several lacked heads, or even entire halves of their bodies. In stark contrast to this grisly scene, was the throne which sat at the far end of the room. It was fully fifteen feet tall if it was an inch, and was constructed of the pure stone of the mountain's heart engraved in gold. Surrounding it was a treasure hoard that would make some dragons blush, piles of gold and platinum coins interspersed with weapons, armor, gems, and other precious items of great value. A fair amount of them must have been magical. But the final thing I saw was what truly held my gaze, and nearly sent me running in abject terror.

A figure sat on the Throne of the Gods, clad in a black robe and holding a bone white staff casually in one hand. As we stepped inside the figure stood and threw back its hood, and we saw clearly what it was. A rust colored skeleton with dirty, mold-green dreadlocks stood before us, its skull grinning wickedly. An aura of intense power flowed from it, and it felt greasy and cold, swimming in evil. The figure called out to us in a hissing whisper that still managed to carry clearly in the still air. "Welcome to the hall of the Throne of the Gods, adventurers. Come forward and speak with me, or flee and become prey to Nerull the Reaper, God of Death!"

I swallowed hard and took a step back. Xean did as well, fading from view as he enacted his invisibility power. I considered following his lead, but something stopped me: None of the others had moved. Elwing and Oak-Wroth stood with their weapons readied, hard defiance in their eyes. Even Fang had only stepped slightly to the side for a better flanking position, his right hand glimmering with red light which could instantly become Wyvern if need be. No way could I let them down, even in the face of a being I knew as the Lord of Murder. I gathered my courage and stepped to the opposite side from Fang, while the druid and the swordsage stepped closer to Nerull and drew his gaze.

"Well, well," he hissed, apparently amused. "A pair of fine upstanding adventurers with an extraordinary reputation across the entire continent, mentoring three young novices with great potential, and you bring them _here_ to test their skills?" The skeleton chuckled at the seemingly delicious irony of the circumstances. "I suppose you didn't know that it is the responsibility of all deities to take turns every century leaving an avatar to guard this Throne, which was built for our glory and blessed by our power? It is your misfortune," Nerull explained, "that it is my turn now. And while some of my more benevolent compeers prefer to weed out the unworthy through riddles or questions of morality, I have a much simpler view of the situation." The skull's grin seemed to stretch and grow, and the Reapers eyes lit with a simmering crimson gleam as a blade of eldritch red energy similar to Fangs but much more intense sprang from the end of the bone staff to form a scythe. "Lifecutter," Oak-Wroth whispered solemnly, "the Reaper's scythe." Waves of intense magic gathered around Nerull in a dark sheath of smoky, black energy as he warded himself for the fight to come. The skeleton then stepped down from the Throne and strode threateningly towards us, cackling madly. "Face Death, mortals!" he cried, and the battle began.

I did the best thing I thought I could: I stalled for time. "Nerull," I cried out, "wait a moment!" The skeleton paused, ready to charge but clearly intrigued that one such as myself would dare to interrupt and call him by his name. "What troubles you, she-elf?" the Reaper whispered, his voice echoing throughout the hall. "What exactly makes you think that no mortal is worthy to sit on the Throne?" I demanded, keeping my voice as steady as possible while I reviewed the spells I'd prepared for the day.

Nerull chuckled gratingly once more and simply responded, "I would not expect a mortal such as yourself to understand your own ineptitude. Sitting upon the Throne allows a mortal to make a request of us, one which we must seriously consider and respond to. Yet each time the request has been something banal and greedy: heaps of treasure, powerful magic items, and potent magics to increase the wisher's abilities." The skeleton hissed sharply and brandished his weapon. "You mortals will be no different from the refuse we have dealt with in the past. Once, the Throne was even stolen and moved from here by powerful transvalent magic, and even once it was reclaimed and returned we could do naught but slap the offenders on the wrist. That behavior will not be accepted under my watch. Fight for your lives mortals, and perhaps if you defeat Death, your request will be heard." Nerull's eyes flared brightly and he glared at each of us in turn. "But not before," he growled, and launched himself forward once more.

The Reaper flickered forward, flying rather than running. I could barely watch as Lifecutter sliced through the air and crashed down on Elwing and Oak-Wroth. The two experienced adventurers had no chance to react as the blade of red light slashed deep wounds in each of them, ignoring their potent armors and enchantments. They were caught off guard by his speed despite their own, and couldn't recover. I had to act, and I acted decisively. Drawing my magic together, I spat a word of power and clenched my fist, feeling my strength drain as the _alter fortune_ spell activated. Time regressed slightly as Nerull was drawn away from my friends, back to his original position. As time began to flow in the correct direction again, I focused on Elwing and cried out, "Look out!"

The Reaper rushed forward again, but this time the swordsage was ready despite not knowing that I had meddled with the time stream. Lifecutter fell only to be intercepted by Elwing's katana, which caught the scythe by the haft and held it in place. At that point Oak-Wroth uttered a prayer to the forces of nature, and white light erupted from him. I felt it settle onto me, guarding my life force from death magic. I recognized the _death ward_ and was grateful. Then another flash of red appeared behind Nerull as Fang drew first blood in the battle by stabbing his greatsword clean through the God of Death's abdominal region. The skeleton seemed to hardly feel the wound despite its seeming severity. Nerull turned his head around at a sickening angle to gaze upon the rogue, and Fang backed away in cautious fear while withdrawing his blade from the deity. At that point Elwing acted once more, stepping back and allowing the Reaper's weapon to slide past him and bite into the ground before swinging his blade at the god in a strong overhand chop. Fire manifested in the air above and as the black katana slammed into Nerull's left shoulder, so did a blazing hammer-stroke of fire. The Reaper rocked back from the force of the blows, his scythe sliding out of the ground effortlessly as he staggered back. Fang took the initiative to strike twice more at the deity, opening a wound in his robe. His second strike was defeated by the twisting motion of Nerull's scythe as the deity spun towards him. Then the god unleashed a spell, and black energy flashed from him, crackling across my torso like black lightning. The pain was excruciating, but I could still stand, and so I stepped slightly to the side and cast a brief spell to imbue my arm with greater strength before lashing out with my aara. Nerull blocked the initial strike, only to have the chain-blade wrap once around the bone shaft of his weapon and strike his grinning skull face. Three rust red teeth clacked to the ground, and Nerull's eyes gleamed with rage.

"You foolish mortal whore!" he shrieked, seemingly hurt by our attacks. And the Lord of Murder shifted both of our weapons aside and reached towards me. I grimaced in anticipation of my death, and awaited the inevitable knowing I couldn't move in time. Then bright white light shining like the sun exploded from the druid, and as it washed over me I felt my wounds cease hurting and hope flowed through me. At the same time, Nerull was shoved backward and burned by the explosion of positive energy. The deity screamed out loud as holes were dissolved in his robes and his green dreadlocks blackened and burned slightly shorter. Elwing took advantage of the hole in the Reaper's defense to strike twice, once with a lightning- infused strike and once after he took a moment to concentrate. The second strike shattered Nerull's ribcage audibly, and with yet another pained hiss the deity fell back towards the Throne.

The four of us advanced towards him with weapons readied as he recovered from the multi-angled assault. Xean was nowhere to be seen, and I began to believe he'd truly run off. As we closed in around the God of Death he spat at us, "It seems your combat prowess is remarkably advanced for your inexperience, young adventurers. Know that this will not always be enough to get you through your lives, and know that forevermore, Nerull the Reaper shall be your enemy!" The deity stood tall once more and began to cast a spell, one which I recognized and feared. "It's a _disjunction_ ," I cried, "stop him!" The spell he was casting would instantly rip away all of the spells we had cast to protect ourselves and render us vulnerable to assault. Not only that, but our enchanted items would be targeted and likely destroyed as well.

Elwing and Fang rushed forward, Oak-Wroth and I began attempting to counterspell fiercely, but I knew we would all be too late. And then Nerull stopped abruptly and shifted directions, spinning his scythe and tripping the two onrushing warriors as he brought his weapon up to catch hold of Xean's tree-shaped sword. The drow's invisibility vanished, revealing his position directly beside the God of Death. Xean's eyes burned brightly in the dim light created by Nerull's shadow, and he struggled with all his might to fend off Nerull's scythe as the god tried to press forward and crush him. "You DARE interrupt me drow!?" The Reaper shouted in his sibilant voice, "You think becoming invisible hid you from _me_? I am a _god_ , mortal. You will never be able to hide yourself well enough to be safe from my gaze!" Nerull shoved the drow backward, causing him to stumble. Elwing and Fang leapt to their feet and rushed forward only to be stonewalled by Lifecutter's flickering movements.

Oak-Wroth and I looked at each other briefly and nodded, communicating without the need for words. The big druid gestured briefly and vines cracked through the stone floors despite the fact that no roots could reach this deep in the earth, and they caught Nerull in their grasp and forced him back a few inches. At the same time I unleashed a wizardly staple: _magic missile._

Three bolts of transparent rose-gold light burst forth from my hand and twisted in their air, avoiding my allies and striking Nerull with complete accuracy directly in the chest. The ribcage which Elwing had cracked now exploded, and rust-colored chunks of bone shot out from Nerull's partially dissolved robe, accompanied by a puff of similarly-colored dust. Elwing, Fang, and Xean all lunged forwards, their blades striking with intent to utterly destroy the God of Death… and as their blades reached him he let out a shrieking hiss of utter denial and rage before dissolving into a puddle of icy water.

We all watched in utter confusion as the puddle spread across the floor. Elwing realized the implications first, and screamed in frustration. "A _simulacrum!_? Not even a true avatar, just a damned _simulacrum_?" He spun on his heel and paced around for a moment to vent his anger while we all thought through what that meant. Nerull was neglecting his duties. Rather than leave a true avatar in place which would hold some of his divine power, he had left a simple _simulacrum_. The _simulacrum_ spell took a pile of ice and water and turned it into a copy of oneself which was roughly 2/3 as powerful as the original, but was incapable of wielding godly powers.

If a true avatar of Nerull had been in attendance, we likely wouldn't have survived. As I gazed upon the swordsage and the druid though, I amended my thoughts. Fang, Xean, and I wouldn't have survived. Those two likely would have, somehow. "Well," Fang spoke up," what do we do now? Do we each sit on the Throne, or what?"

"No," Oak-Wroth stated firmly. "Truth be told we didn't bring you three along to use the Throne, simply to find it. We neither want nor need the power it grants; this was done for the experience and the adventure." I frowned, but nodded my agreement. It was a reasonable notion, though the cost had nearly been too high for some of us. Fang grunted but didn't argue, and Xean wouldn't take his eyes off of the puddle on the floor. "However," the druid continued, "there is nothing saying that we can't take what it already here with us." The mood brightened considerably as we gazed upon the riches piled near the Throne. "Well," I said out loud, "I guess this trip was pretty profitable all around then. We gained a great deal of knowledge and experience, removed and evil god's _simulacrum_ from the world, and turned up quite a profit in the end."

"I think I could get used to this."


End file.
